T'Aramu
by Susie49
Summary: The 'Enterprise' is sent to survey a colonised planet decimated by nuclear war 200 years ago, so survivors are the last thing they expect to find. And when one of the survivors, a powerful telepath, is linked by accident to both Kirk and Spock, no-one could have predicted the impact she would have on their lives...
1. Chapter 1

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER ONE – STAXIS LEIA

Kirk leaned back into the fresh green grass and sighed in contentment. It had been a good week. A good month, come to that. Recreational facilities on Starbase 11 were excellent and no crew had needed them more, or taken fuller advantage of them – captain included. Memories of a certain doctor, whose ship had left port the day before, were likely to keep him smiling for quite some time.

He chewed reflectively on a blade of grass and wondered what mission the 'Enterprise' would be given next. He had needed the rest, as they all had; the last six months had been spent on reconnaissance work perilously close to the Klingon border with everyone's nerves stretched to the limit, and there had been several very close shaves. Now he itched to get back into space again. The 'Enterprise' had been overhauled from bridge to nacelles and was ready to fly the moment the word was given. The only question now was where.

His communicator chirruped and he flicked it open, rolling over on his side.

'Yes, Mr Spock?'

'A message from Admiral Doran's office, sir,' the Vulcan's calm voice said. 'He wishes to see you immediately to discuss the orders for our next mission.'

'Okay, Spock, on my way. Start recalling all personnel still on shore and put the ship on standby.'

'Understood, sir. Spock out.'

Kirk rose slowly to his feet, stretched himself luxuriously and then settled his shoulders with a smile. He began to move purposefully towards the park exit.

Back to work.

Doran's assistant told him to go right in, eyeing him speculatively from under lowered lashes all the while, and Kirk took a moment to think that if his leave wasn't about to finish….

'Welcome, Jim,' Doran held out his hand to the younger man, the suggestion of a smile lightening his normally severe expression. 'You look well. Brandy?'

Once they were seated, Doran pushed a sealed tape across his desk to Kirk.

'Your new orders, Jim. You can examine them at your leisure later but it's a pretty straightforward mission. You remember Staxis Leia?'

Kirk frowned, searching his memory. Then his brow cleared and he said, 'Of course. The first planet to be colonised in the Archean system. About two hundred years ago, wasn't it?' Doran nodded, and Kirk continued, 'They didn't last long, as I remember.'

Doran nodded again, soberly this time. He said,

'That's right. Within 20 years of its foundation, Staxis Leia succeeded in having the nuclear war that Earth had avoided. The whole planet was completely contaminated and it was assumed that no-one had survived the holocaust.'

Kirk lifted an eyebrow, a habit learned from Spock.

'Was assumed, Admiral?'

'We sent an automated probe ship out on a standard check two months ago. It came back with the information that radiation levels had reached a non-critical state. Not safe enough for re-colonisation, but stable enough to mean that a landing party could go down and suffer no ill effects if standard decontamination procedures were followed.' He paused and Kirk, who had a fair idea of what was coming, waited in silence. 'It also recorded faint traces of mechanical activity coming from beneath the surface.'

'Any life readings?' Kirk asked.

'No. But then, if those readings are life support systems, there might not be. They had the technology to induce a suspended state and the readings from that would be negligible. People have survived for over a century in sleepers before – Khan and his group, for example. Not that I'm suggesting you'll be picking up any megalomaniacs,' he smiled slightly, 'these would just be ordinary citizens, probably the pick of the community. So… that's your mission, Jim. Send down a party, find the survivors – if any – and bring them back to Starbase 11 for rehabilitation. Should be a piece of cake.'

Kirk said nothing. He had learned not to tempt the Fates by taking anything for granted.

Half an hour later, Kirk fairly bounced on to the bridge of the 'Enterprise', carrying a grin that felt like it was spread from ear to ear. It was echoed on the faces of Uhura and Sulu and almost, Kirk could have sworn, on Spock's. At any rate, the Vulcan moved out of the command chair as Kirk approached with something nearing alacrity. He waited until Kirk was settled and then said,

'Welcome aboard, Captain. I trust you are rested?'

Kirk leaned back in his chair and smiled at his First Officer with an innocence that did not deceive either of them.

'I had a very pleasant time, Mr Spock. Yourself?'

'I spent some time devising new additions to the library computer which should prove useful, sir. I have also completely reprogrammed the chess computer and updated it with over 50 Grand Master games, not to mention…'

Kirk laughed softly and Spock turned to look at him, one eyebrow on the rise.

'Sir?'

'It all sounds… most relaxing, Mr Spock.'

'Yes, sir,' the Vulcan nodded gravely, refusing to rise to the bait, 'it was.'

Still smiling, Kirk swung his chair round to face Uhura, noticing at once that she has changed her hair and that she knew that he had noticed. He said,

'Good to see you, Lieutenant. Give me ship-wide audio.'

'Yes, sir,' she responded, smiling back at him. 'You're on, sir.'

'Captain to crew. I hope you are all rested and ready to get back to work. We leave port in two hours. All department heads check systems readiness and report status to Lt. Uhura. Dr. McCoy, Mr Scott, please meet me in the Briefing Room in five minutes. Kirk out.'

Uhura cut the intercom and Kirk turned to the navigation board to find Sulu looking at him expectantly.

'Mr Sulu, plot me a course to Staxis Leia, Archean system, and give me an ETA on warp factor three.'

'Aye, aye sir.' Sulu tackled the board with enthusiasm and Kirk rose and headed for the elevator, nodding to Uhura to take the conn and collecting Spock with a glance.

Great ship. And a crew to match.

They found McCoy and Scott waiting for them in the Briefing Room. After the initial comments had been exchanged ('I heard all about that night, Scotty – you'll never be able to show face in the bar again' and 'Sunk any good mint juleps recently, Bones?' and 'Where the hell were you all last week, Jim?') Kirk outlined their current mission and waited for questions. The first, predictably enough, was from McCoy.

'Just how many survivors are we supposed to be picking up, Captain? And in what state?'

'No idea is the answer to both questions, Bones. Spock?'

Spock looked up from the Briefing Room screen, which was tapped into the library computer.

'Staxis Leia had a population of five hundred and twenty seven thousand, two hundred and twelve when the war broke out, doctor. Our records show that hostilities commenced virtually without warning and even those in the highest echelons of government were unprepared. Life support shelters were not available to the majority of the population. I would not estimate a high level of survival. Neither, incidentally, can Star Fleet Command, or they would not be sending just one ship. It is quite within the realms of probability that there were no survivors at all and that the traces picked up are simply automated systems still running. As for their prospective state of health – if they managed to reach what shelter there was, if they have survived this long…' He lifted his shoulders in the suggestion of a shrug. 'There are too many unknown factors. With no precise data, any comment I might make would be pure speculation.'

'You? Speculate? Heaven forbid,' McCoy murmured.

'Scott, the responsibility for handling any equipment we might find down there will be yours,' Kirk said. 'Any guesses on the type of life support system they might be using?'

'Could be one o' several, Captain, or even a mixture of them a'. Bomb shelters with re circulated and decontaminated air – in which like case we'd be dealing wi' third or fourth generation survivors – or sleeper capsules like the aines we found on Khan's ship would be the maist likely and well within their capabilities. They might ha' had time to come up wi' something mair sophisticated, but I canna really say. My team will be prepared for anything, though, you can rest assured of that.'

'Well,' Kirk said crisply, 'what it seems to boil down to is that we're just going to have to go and find out for ourselves. Scott, what's the engineering situation?'

'Croonin' like a bairn and ready when you are, Captain,' his Chief Engineer replied enthusiastically.

Kirk switched the viewing screen to the bridge and said to the intercom, 'Mr Sulu, what's that estimate?'

'At warp three, sir, we'll make planetfall in two weeks, three days and twelve hours, sir.'

'Good enough. Prepare to engage warp at Mr Scott's signal.'

Scott rose and moved swiftly to the door. 'I'll jist awa' and see to ma engines, sir…'

Yet another man who was more than happy to get back to space again. Recreation was all very well, but the best thing about it was that it made getting back into harness all the sweeter. Kirk looked at his remaining two officers with a somewhat wry grin.

'Let's get to it, gentlemen. McCoy, full physical update on all crew members. Spock, plan me a session of exercises and manoeuvres that will get this crew back into top shape. And Spock… that includes me, too. Workout in the gym this evening?'

'As you please, sir. I, however, have been exercising regularly during the past four weeks.' Only Kirk would have dared describe the expression on the Vulcan's face as smugness.

'I shall be on my guard, Mr Spock,' he said gravely, ' although I think I should warn you that I have too.'

McCoy glanced at his captain's impossibly straight face, and rose.

'C'mon, Spock, you really don't want to know the kind of exercise he means… Let's go mind the store.'

Yes, indeed, thought Kirk, and headed for the bridge to watch his ship sail out of port and into the stars again.

They made planetfall on Sulu's estimate almost to the minute. The crew were on top form and ready for anything from searching a city to taking on a Klingon battle fleet (though Kirk devoutly hoped _that_ situation would never arise.) Once they were in orbit, Spock checked and re-checked the probe's readings. The atmosphere was indeed still contaminated, but a landing party could survive several days if necessary providing correct precautions were taken. A planetwide scan indicated only once source of mechanical activity, underneath what had been the planet's main city, Staxis.

'I estimate the power to be sufficient to maintain 97 life support systems of the type available in that era,' Spock said, from his hooded viewer at the science console. 'Certainly not more.'

'97,' Kirk said softly, 'out of half a million. My God.' There was a moment of silence. The he said, 'Recommendations for landing party, Mr Spock?'

'Myself, of course, Captain,' the Vulcan said promptly. 'Chief Medical Officer and Chief Engineering Officer, with selected staff.'

Kirk raised an eyebrow.

'And?' he prompted.

'And the captain, sir,' Spock said blandly.

Kirk nodded.

'Agreed. Uhura, page Scott and McCoy. Have them select minimum staff and meet myself and Spock in the transporter room in ten minutes. Also security guards Baines, Duval and M'Bila. Sulu, take the conn.'

'Sir,' Uhura and Sulu said together.

Kirk remained seated for a moment, experiencing a brief qualm. The landing party comprised most of the senior officers on board. If an emergency should arise…

Spock was at his side, divining his thought in the way he so often did with that peculiar contact of his that was sometimes only one step away from telepathy.

'Sir, there are no life form readings on the planet's surface and I can find no trace of any other ship in the area. I anticipate no danger.'

'No, Mr Spock.' Still, no harm in being on the safe side. 'Sulu, we'll contact the ship at hourly intervals. Should we fail to make contact at the appointed time, lock on and beam us up. And start shouting if you come out with even a hint of something unusual out there.'

Kirk rose and headed for the elevator, Spock at his side.

The landing party comprised nine in all – Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scott, Christine Chapel, Scott's second in command Grace de Maurier and the three security guards. Kirk sent Spock down first with the security contingent and then followed with the rest of the team.

They materialised in the main square of Staxis. It had been a lively, bustling city by all accounts, a centre of trade and entertainment, but now it was one of the most unutterably desolate sights Kirk had ever seen.

The place was dead. No plants, not even the hardier weeds, had managed to struggle back to life between the cracked and broken stones that paved the square and the streets that led from in all directions. There was not one building standing in its entirety. Most had been razed to the ground, leaving a few precariously balanced walls of heat-blasted stone to relieve the flat monotony of the view. Under the washed-out blue of the sky a featureless expanse of grey upon grey, dust, rubble and ruin stretched to the horizon.

The security guards had fanned out in standard formation and were prowling round the perimeter of the square. Kirk had to restrain an impulse to tell them not to bother. He could not imagine anything, alien or human, living in this wasteland.

McCoy moved to stand beside Kirk, an unusually grim expression on his face. When he spoke, his voice was flat but Kirk could sense the deep anger and frustration underlying the words.

'They must have been mad, Jim. Mad. The nuclear threat on Earth was over by the time they settled here and yet they learned nothing. What a _waste._'

Spock looked up from his tricorder and said, 'Not mad, doctor. Greedy. Hungry for power. It was a war between political factions fighting for control of the planet and the right to dispose of its vast mineral wealth. Your history is full of such instances.'

'I don't need a lecture on history, Spock!' McCoy snapped.

'I was not attempting to lecture, doctor. I was merely attempting to point out…'

'_Gentlemen_,' Kirk interrupted, 'enough. You can discuss the philosophies in your own time. Spock, have you pinpointed the power source?'

'Yes, Captain. It is coming from beneath that building.' He nodded in the direction of a structure (although that was an overstatement) some two hundred yards to their left. Kirk beckoned to the landing party and, leaving one of the security guards on sentry duty in the square, they made their way slowly across the rubble towards the ruin Spock had indicated. Half on one wall was still standing and above the burnt and pitted door they could still make out one word – hospital.

McCoy looked sick and Kirk did not imagine he looked much better himself. Even Spock had an unusually stony expression on his face by this time. Without a word, the landing party slipped and slithered over mounds of broken glass and crushed bricks. The clatter of rocks was the only sound in that deathly silence.

'Here, Captain,' Spock said suddenly and Kirk almost jumped, the noise was so unexpected. Balanced precariously on uneven stones, Spock was pointing to a spot directly between his feet.

'A trapdoor set flush with the floor, sir. Readings say re-inforced steel lined with concrete. And the power source is below it, about 200 metres down.'

Kirk waved Spock out of range, set his phaser to 'stun' and levelled it at the ground where Spock had been standing. Three seconds later he had cleared the rubble from above the door. It was about eight feet by six, its steel dulled and scratched by the stone that had lain over it for all those years. It was, as Spock said, set flush with the concrete floor and there was no sign of a handle or control that would open it.

'Scott,' said Kirk, but his chief engineer was already on his knees, running his fingers round the edge of the door.

'Pneumatic, sir,' he said eventually, rising and brushing the dust from his knees. 'And frequency operated, I'd say. Mr Spock, gi' me your tricorder for a minute…' Spock handed it over and Scott began to fiddle with the dials, producing excruciating shrieks of noise. 'No way o' knowing what setting they used, but I'm counting on it that it'll no' ha' been complicated,' he added to Kirk over the increasing din.

'I hope not,' Kirk said, with a grimace.

Scott cast him a sympathetic grin as the tricorder, on a steady note now, began to work its way down the frequency scale.

Just as Kirk was beginning to think that he would have to give the order to blast the door open, there was a low, grinding hum and it began to rise slowly upwards on steel pylons until it hung six feet above them. De Maurier had come laden with sundry pieces of portable equipment, among them a large and powerful flashlight. Scott took this from her and swung it round the interior.

'Steps, sir. And going down a good long way, too.'

Scott and Kirk went down alone. The steps were steep and Kirk counted 120 before giving up to concentrate on keeping his footing. The air was dry and musty and smelt of decay. When the steps levelled off, they were facing another re-inforced door.

'If there are survivors, they're down here,' Scott said. 'Can ye hear it?'

Kirk strained his ears. Very faintly, as if from a long way off, he could just make out the low hum of machinery. Scott ran the flashlight round the edge of the door. It caught and held on a control panel to the right, which he moved to examine.

'I think I can operate this, if it still works,' he muttered, 'I'd rather no' blast in through this door if I can help it… Aye, there she goes.'

Jerkily and reluctantly, the door was sliding open. Kirk called up the stairwell to Spock and McCoy and waited with barely leashed impatience as they clambered down to meet them. When they were all four standing in the open doorway, Scott ran his flashlight round the room before them.

The mutter of machinery was much louder now and they could see why. Rank upon rank of huge computer complexes clustered round the walls and stood in the centre of a vast, shadowy hall. Massive things, old-fashioned and cumbersome. But working. Scott drew a deep, awed breath.

'Aye,' he said slowly, 'it's a sleeper unit. That's an air decontamination unit,' he pointed with the flashlight, 'and that's a cryogenic cooler. Come on, Mr Spock, let's see if we canna shed some light on the subject…' He and Spock disappeared into the darkened recesses of the room, their elongated shadows flickering eerily on the walls.

'It just… might be,' McCoy growled. 'With this lot keeping them going, their must be some survivors. Keep your fingers crossed, Jim.'

'And my toes,' Kirk responded. Not joking, either.

The lights came on suddenly and they both blinked in the bright neon glare. Scott was making some adjustments to the main control panel and Spock was prowling round the far side of the room. Leaving McCoy to gather the landing party together, Kirk crossed to join him. His boots raised little fountains of dust as he walked.

Spock had halted before the only other door in the room. This one had a small, thick glass panel set into it at eye level. Kirk peered in but could see nothing; inside was still in total darkness. He cocked an eyebrow at Spock.

'Any life readings?'

'Several, Captain. Faint… but alive.'

They took their time. An hour or so spent now might mean life or death and would matter very little to people who had been asleep for over 200 years.

Spock, Scott and de Maurier checked every circuit and every program of the life support systems, discovering that of 76 capsules originally occupied, only 15 were still functioning. McCoy, his medicorder plugged into the main computer, determined that of those 15, six occupants were dead, four might or might not survive when they were revived and five had a more that 86% chance of being wakened successfully. The main computer also produced a numbered chart of the sleeper units in the internal room, which McCoy marked up for his nurses showing which were to be tackled first, so that the maximum number of lives could be saved. Stretchers and portable decontamination units were beamed down from the ship.

In the end, they stood tense before that final door, knowing that everything technology could do had been done. The storage tanks in the freezers had been emptied of their cryogenic gases and slowly refilled with oxygen. Massive doses of nutrients and stimulants had been administered intravenously. Spock, monitoring the computer, reported and gradual increase in heartbeat and life signs among the survivors.

McCoy drew a deep breath and nodded to Spock to throw the final switch.

The lights in the inner room came on.

The door opened.

McCoy and his team exploded into action.

Kirk, feeling useless, followed slowly and took a good look at the remnants of a civilisation.

It was a large room and had the look of being completed in a hurry. The stones that paved the floor were uneven in size and some had been just hastily fixed, so that walking was accompanied by an eerie rocking motion. The sleepers were banked three high, twelve along each side of two of the walls. The third wall showed that an attempt had been made to fit other, for steel plates and wiring were scattered around, but they had been left unfinished. Lack of time, Kirk wondered? Or simply a typical human refusal to believe that the worst would happen?

Most of the units were still dark, only those which contained people still alive having been lit. The glass panels were opaque, in any case. Just as well, perhaps.

The room, dead and silent for so long, was alive with activity now. McCoy was snapping orders into his communicator and to his nurses as fast as he could get the words out. Three stretchers were now occupied but as Kirk moved over to take a closer look the transporter whisked them up to the ship and Sickbay. Kirk took another step and found Spock at his side.

'Bones! Anything we can do?'

'Keep out of the bloody way and let us get on with the job,' McCoy growled, not raising his eyes from the apparently lifeless body of a young man just placed on a stretcher beside him. But Christine Chapel called from further down the room,

'Captain, we can't get this one open. It seems to be stuck.'

It was the last one, which meant it had to be the man or woman McCoy had deemed the most likely to survive the trauma of re-awakening. Well, he or she wasn't going to lose that chance if Kirk could help it. He bombed down the room and grasped the catch that Chapel could not force open. Spock took hold of its twin on the other side.

It was not going to give.

After several heart-stopping moments, it did.

The glass window came forward and then slid neatly back into the wall, bringing forward the slab inside, and its occupant.

There was a short, stunned pause. Then Chapel said, almost as if the words were forced from her,

'Oh my God, Captain, she's…'

Kirk said, 'Holy shit,' in tones of awe.

Spock said nothing, but one eyebrow rose very steeply indeed.

McCoy elbowed his way past them, saying snappily,

'What the devil's going on here, Jim? All the others are decontaminated and in Sickbay, let's get this one…'

The words died in his throat as his eyes fell on his last patient but they acted on Kirk like an incantation. Beckoning to the remaining orderly, he lifted her from the sleeper himself. Her body felt cool but supple in his arms. Over the head resting on his shoulder, his eyes met McCoy's.

'She has to make it, Bones.'

McCoy nodded and seemed to forget to stop. His head was still moving when the transporter beams took them.

Kirk reported back to the bridge, recorded his log and made it down to Sickbay in fifteen minutes flat. McCoy met him at the door of his office, looking as if he had been through a major war that afternoon – which he probably had, Kirk thought; his own decisions had sent men to their deaths before now, but it was McCoy who had to pick up the pieces each time. The doctor opened his medicine cabinet, brought out his treasured bottle of Saurian brandy and two glasses, poured out generous measures for both of them and then plonked himself unceremoniously behind his desk. Kirk joined him, perched on the edge of the desk.

'Well, Bones?'

McCoy took a deep swig of the brandy before he replied. Then he said,

'Seven of them survived the beam-up and decontamination process. Four men, two women and a boy. The rest of them couldn't handle having their molecules scrambled by that soulless hunk of machinery. We've got our survivors hooked up to life support now. If they're going to wake up, it'll be in the next couple of hours. Goddammit!' His fist crashed into the table, setting the glasses dancing. ' Seven people. Out of a whole bloody civilisation, seven bloody people!'

Kirk reached out, grasped the tense shoulder, looked into the haunted blue eyes.

'You did what you could, Bones. Not our fault.'

'Isn't it? Don't you just sometimes feel that we should be wiped from the universe because we are a species that just can't help cocking it up? Give us a heaven and we'll excavate a hell.'

'An interesting observation, doctor, ' Spock said, from the doorway, 'and one I have often made myself – in somewhat less colourful language, of course.'

'Of course,' McCoy agreed, his voice heavily laden with sarcasm.

Kirk watched the Vulcan surreptitiously , knowing he was baiting McCoy to help him release some of the pain the day had brought him, knowing that of the three of them it was Spock, the alien, who had perhaps the greatest insight into the human soul.

'Can we see our passengers, Bones?' Kirk asked, meaning really could he see just one, and McCoy knew it. He rose and led them through to Sickbay.

All of the beds were occupied and each had a doctor or nurse watching the monitors like hawks. As they passed the first bed, the readings on the screen rose sharply and then plummeted to zero. Kirk heard McCoy swear softly under his breath as he snatched up a hypo and went over.

There was obviously nothing Kirk could do, so after a momentary hesitation he moved on, Spock two paces behind him. The man McCoy was working on was the oldest, fifty possibly. The rest were between twenty and thirty, except for the boy, who was barely into his teens.

Kirk stopped by the last bed.

She looked even more beautiful here. A faint rose colour stained her cheeks and a pulse beat slowly in the blue-shaded hollow at the base of her throat. The hair fanned around her was flame.

'How is she?' he asked Chapel, who was sitting attentively at the bedside.

'Fighting, sir,' was the consoling response.

Behind him, Spock made a sharp, uncontrolled movement. Kirk turned to him in surprise, opening his mouth to comment.

And then he felt it too.

A sort of… fish hook twisting in his head. It reminded him of – what? And it was growing insistently urgent and powerful. He fought down the surge of panic that threatened to engulf him and said sharply,

'Spock! That's not…'

Christine Chapel had gone white to the lips. All over Sickbay, voices were being raised, questioning, fearful. McCoy came rocketing over to them, his face shockingly pale.

'Jim! What the hell's going on?'

Spock nodded towards the woman on the bed with an obvious effort and answered Kirk's unfinished question.

'No, Captain. It is not I. I do not have the telepathic capacity to create such a disturbance.'

'_She's _telepathic,' Kirk stated, over the increasing sensation of absolute terror.

'Unquestionably. Powerful… and completely untrained.'

'But that's not menace she's transmitting, Spock.'

'No, sir, it is not,' the Vulcan agreed. His face was ashen. 'It is blind, unreasoning fear. Just as dangerous when undirected. She is lashing out wildly and she mustbe stopped.'

He staggered, and McCoy caught him. One of the nurses gave a shrill scream and began to sob. Chapel had crammed her fingers in her mouth and was shaking. They were all bound into a panic that was not their own.

Kirk hesitated for a split second, then did the only thing he could. He grasped her hand and opened his mind as far as he was able.

- You are safe. Read me. It's over, and you are safe. Read me… -

It had always worked with Spock.

But this was not Spock.

This was a woman with two centuries of nightmares in her mind.

And she was twice as powerful.

He felt her mind tear into his, jagged and raw, and cling there. He saw it all as she had seen it. Felt it all with her. And thought he must die of the agony.

From somewhere very far away, a voice was shouting, 'No! Captain… Jim, no!'

Hands were pulling at him, but her mind would not let him go.

Something exploded in his head with a crack of blinding light and he dived down into darkness and horror.


	2. Chapter 2

A NOTE ON THE TEXT

This is something very light that I wrote years ago, which seemed to be appreciated. I think it's an example of the 'Mary-Sue' school of fan fiction, but it is just for fun and NOT meant to be taken seriously (think Tribbles, not City on the Edge.) Apologies to any REAL Trekkies for any undoubted technical mistakes!

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER TWO – SALLY

When Kirk finally came to, fighting up through layers of pain, two facts immediately presented themselves for his inspection. One was that he had absolutely the worst headache of his life. The other was that he was in his own cabin, in his own bed. He groaned and tried to sit up.

'No, you don't, sir.' A hand tipped him expertly back into a horizontal position and then a hypo hissed against his arm. Kirk recognised the voice and tried, unsuccessfully, to focus his eyes.

'M'Benga? What am I doing here?'

'Dr. McCoy thought it best to remove you from the immediate vicinity, sir. Until Sally… er, calmed down.'

'Sally? Is that her name?' The headache was receding. Kirk sat up again and this time, was permitted to stay up. 'How is she?'

'Alive and kicking,' M'Benga responded, very dryly. Kirk noted the tone, but was too pre-occupied to pay it much attention.

'How long was I out?'

'Five hours, captain.'

'Five! What have I missed?'

'Dr. McCoy can tell you more about it than I can. When he was sure you were out of danger he left me here to watch you and I've been here ever since. I'll just let him know you've come round…'

He went over to the intercom and Kirk sat back, trying to put his brain into some kind of order. His last clear memory was that of taking Sally's hand in that instinctive attempt to quell the panic that was threatening to engulf both himself and his crew. Everything after that was pretty much a blur, but he still remembered enough to make him shudder. The sheer physical agony of her entry into his mind had been bad enough. His only previous experience of linking minds had been with Spock, who was guarded the extreme, careful never to intrude further than Kirk was willing to allow; thus he had been totally unprepared for the surge of raw power and the alien presence that was Sally inside his brain. In that blind extremity, she had ripped passed every layer of self-protection, forced her way deeply into his consciousness and yet he knew that there had been no

vindictiveness in her actions, no intention to cause him pain. She had seen him simply as a refuge from her own nightmares.

Sally, a telepath, had felt her planet died. Five hundred thousand people had died in agony and she had suffered it with all of them. Those were the memories she had carried with her into all the years of sleep…

Kirk's cabin door swept open and McCoy charged in, aiming his scanner at Kirk before he was half-way towards him. M'Benga left quietly.

'Hmm, better than I expected. For a moment back there, we really didn't think you were going to make it. That thick skull of yours must have saved you. No, don't get up, Jim…'

'The hell with that,' Kirk said, getting up. He was agreeably surprised to find that his legs actually supported his weight. He shrugged on his uniform and added, 'I've been unconscious for five hours and I can't find out what's going on by lying on my butt. What's the situation?'

'We're still in orbit round Staxis. Five of our patients are alive and out of danger. Scott's got the conn and everything's under control.'

'Where's Spock?'

'With Sally.'

Kirk punched up two cups of strong coffee, gave one to McCoy and sat down at his desk, motioning the doctor to do the same.

'Let's have the story, Bones.'

McCoy sighed and ran a hand that shook slightly through his hair.

'God, what a day. Okay, here goes.

'When you collapsed, Spock dragged you away and told M'Benga to get you out of there. He looked like death, Jim, and you did too; I've never been so scared in my life. Sally'd sort of levelled out into a kind of high-pitched whine, if you can imagine what I mean,' Kirk nodded grimly; he could, 'so I guess you must have done some good. Anyway, it was almost bearable. Spock sent me off to look after you – come to think of it, I must have been more upset than I realised, letting that damn Vulcan order me about in my own Sickbay – and while I was gone he got into mind-meld with her. They were getting the vibrations all over the ship; we were pretty damn close to a collective nervous breakdown, what with half the crew rampaging into Sickbay to find out what was going on, the other half yelling over the comm-links and all the systems going haywire…'

'_What?'_

'Oh, didn't I mention it? She's telekinetic, too,' McCoy said gloomily. 'Quite a talented lady.'

'So it would seem,' Kirk said, wondering how many other 'talents' this lady had up her sleeve and how dangerous they might be. 'Any damage?'

'Only to everybody's nerves. You're lucky. You were out of it. Anyway, when I got back from making sure that you weren't as dead as you looked, Spock had managed to calm her down but we decided we'd have to wake her up, and fast. Spock seemed to think that even the minimal control she might have if she were conscious would be enough to protect most of us, even if she did panic again. So I shot her full of stimulant, and crossed my fingers. We might easily have lost her, bringing her out of it that fast. But it worked.' McCoy stopped to draw breath and gave Kirk a very direct look. 'I don't know how Spock stood it, you know. She must have been in contact with him all the time, even when she'd got below the level the rest of us could hear.'

'Is he all right?'

'How would I know? Spock wouldn't admit it to _me _if she'd blown his mind apart like a laser cannon. All I can tell you is that he's looking more Vulcan by the minute.'

'Probably just maintaining his blocks against her, Bones. His own disciplines must give him some protection against her, you know.'

'Maybe,' McCoy said enigmatically.

'What happened when she woke up?' Kirk asked.

'Well, I tell you, Jim, I was more than prepared to have a raving lunatic on our hands, considering what she must have gone through. But she just lay there, staring at the ceiling for about ten minutes. I _think_ she was reading us. Checking us out. In fact, I'm certain that's what she was doing because when she started talking she certainly seemed to know who we were and where she was.'

'So you did get something verbal out of her?'

'Too true,' McCoy replied, a little sourly, ' she hasn't stopped talking since. She sat up and demanded food, drink, clothes and make-up, in that order. I think she's perfectly healthy but I haven't been able to do a full run of tests yet.'

'Why not?' Kirk wanted to know.

'Because she wouldn't sit still long enough,' McCoy said, with the air of one making a confession much against his will. 'And when I tried to make her, my scanner exploded. _Not _a co-incidence, I suspect.'

Kirk stared at him for a moment and then began to laugh. After a few stunned seconds, McCoy joined in and soon the two of then were leaning on each other's shoulders, tears streaming down their cheeks, feeling the tensions of the day relax as the nerve-racking events of the day dissolved into a chuckling harmony.

'God, I needed that,' McCoy said eventually, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 'I tell you, I've never met anyone quite like her and I honestly don't know what to make of her. Anyway, you'll see what I mean in a minute. I told Spock to meet us here at 18.00.'

The door opened and Kirk stood to meet Sally Kilsyth for the first time.

She literally blazed into the cabin. Asleep, she had been beautiful; awake, she was beyond words.

She had the colouring of a Celt, red hair and violet eyes and the pale skin of one whose ancestors had been born under cloudy northern skies. Vitality radiated from her and turned the vague clumsiness of her movements into the promise of an elegance to come. He was surprised to find her eyes almost on a level with his own; the fragile bones were misleading, had made her seem smaller. She had been given a standard issue jumpsuit to wear but not even the plain fabric and the basic cut could disguise the fact that her figure was breathtaking.

In subsequent years Kirk tried many times, and failed, to adequately describe Sally to those who had not met her. He could detail the glorious eyes, the full and generous mouth, the sculptured perfection of her face, the honey-smooth skin – all these were capable of depiction easily enough. But most of her splendour was due to that elusive quality, personality, which gave life to something that, without it, would have had all the warmth and soul of a living statue.

Several moments after she entered the room, it registered that she was talking to him; to his mind. Soothing nerves she had damaged, caressing with sympathy where before she had clung like fire. On some level there was apology and regret for the pain she had caused him; on another, an appreciation of his awareness of her, a critical appraisal of his masculinity, a certain satisfaction at being in the presence of male animals again.

McCoy broke in dryly, verbally.

'Sally, you do realise this is coming through loud and clear to everyone in the vicinity? It's hardly decent for third parties.'

'I concur,' Spock said, in the most Vulcan tone. It was a measure of Kirk's absorption that he had not even seen him come in.

'Well, well,' McCoy drawled, 'Spock and I finally agree on something. Sally Kilsyth, meet Captain James T Kirk. Now, sit down and shut up. Telepathically, at least. It's too much to expect that you'll stop talking as well, I suppose.'

'Far too much,' Sally replied, grinning at him. 'Is that coffee? Can I have some? And is there food? Can that silly machine produce cake and biscuits? Oh, can it do éclairs? And maybe a butterscotch sundae?'

'Spock, you were supposed to stop by the galley,' McCoy said accusingly, as Kirk went over to the wall to programme in coffee and ice cream.

'We _did, _Doctor. In the past three hours Miss Kilsyth has consumed three bowls of tomato soup, a large steak, several pounds of French fries, two pints of milk and half of a chocolate cake,' Spock replied politely.

'I haven't eaten for two hundred years,' Sally retorted unarguably, 'and you forgot about the apple, the banana and the peach. I believe in eating healthily. Thanks, Jim,' she added, accepting her ice cream with glee and inserting a huge spoonful into her mouth, which did at least have the temporary effect of silencing her.

Not 'Captain', he noted, but Jim. She was behaving as if she had known him all her life. Sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking round her with an air of enquiry between spoonfuls, she seemed quite at ease, treating both himself and McCoy with no lack of respect but rather an overwhelming warmth that disregarded rank and age.

Kirk threw a glance at Spock, still standing by the door as if reluctant to approach her too closely. He looked haggard. Kirk wished, not for the first time, that Spock could find a way of releasing the appalling tensions of that day. Easy enough for Kirk and McCoy to indulge in laughter that was only one step away from tears; more than impossible for Spock.

Sally was talking to McCoy with a lilting accent that he recognised, and in a moment he found out why.

'I was born on Staxis, but my father was a Scot.'

'I thought the accent was familiar. Our Chief Engineer is a Scot.'

'Montgomery Scott, aka Scotty. I know,' Sally said, drinking her coffee in four mighty gulps. Her empty cup rose from the table and cartwheeled gently across the room to the waste disposal. 'Do I really have an accent?'

'It's faint, but it's there,' McCoy said, watching the cup's progress with a professional eye. 'Don't you think, Jim?'

'What? Oh, yes. Definitely,' replied Kirk, thinking that if McCoy wasn't going to comment then he wouldn't either. 'So, Sally Kilsyth, what do you think of the 'Enterprise'?'

'Haven't seen very much of her yet. I did ask, but Spock wouldn't show me round.'

Kirk looked at Spock, who said blandly,

'I thought you would prefer to do the honours, sir. In any case, I had something more urgent to attend to.'

'Which was?'

'I gave Miss Kilsyth some elementary instruction in Vulcan mind control techniques, Captain.' Sally made a small sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Spock shot her a look that, despite his expressionless face, was full of disapproval, and continued, 'Hardly sufficient of course, but a start must be made. Otherwise life would be… difficult. For all of us.'

'That's a masterly piece of understatement, Spock,' McCoy said.

Kirk was watching Sally and said nothing because he knew that Spock was not telling them all of the truth. He was aware, none better, of what Sally had gone through, yet here she was, quite obviously not in any kind of distress. Spock, on the other hand, had the bearing of a man who had been dragged through an emotional mangle half a dozen times in quick succession. He suspected that Spock had used the meld with Sally to help her adjust to her memories and he also suspected that the Vulcan would never admit it. His reasons would have been quite logical, of course. A telepath in a state of severe emotional stress was not going to be an asset on board the 'Enterprise'; Kirk was not yet sure whether a telepath in any state would be.

Sally had eaten everything and was becoming impatient; as a result, cups and plates started dancing on the tabletop.

'Bones,' said Kirk, staring, 'am I hallucinating?'

'No,' said McCoy briefly. 'Stop showing off, Sally.'

'I can't help it,' Sally muttered, as everything fell back into place with a clatter.

'Concentration is all that is needed, Miss Kilsyth,' Spock said sternly.

'Will somebody please tell me how she does that?' Kirk asked.

'It is a purely automatic reflex, Captain,' Spock explained. 'When Miss Kilsyth's attention is distracted – which it all too frequently is – she loses control of her telekinetic power.'

'I can do it deliberately, too,' Sally protested. 'But it takes such a lot of thought . Anyway, no-body knew enough about it in my day to even begin to help me understand how to control it.'

'Well, we know more about it now,' McCoy said cheerfully, ' and one of the first things on your agenda, young lady, is for me to find out just what makes that remarkable brain of yours tick. If you can manage to remain static for more than a minute or two, I'll take you back to Sickbay and run you through a Sigmund, and then you'd better have a full physical along with the rest of the survivors.'

'Hmmm. Doesn't sound terribly exciting to me. Don't I get a say in my agenda?'

'Not until Dr. McCoy has satisfied his medical curiosity, you don't. Standard procedure is to run a full physical on anyone boarding a starship, no exceptions,' Kirk said.

Sally leaned her elbows on his desk, cupped her chin in her hands and gazed soulfully at him. Her eyes were impossibly large and her lashes were black, thick and very long. She said,

'I'd rather see round the ship.'

Kirk said warily, keeping the tone light, ' You don't have a choice, I'm afraid. It won't take long.'

'I don't particularly care how long it will take,' Sally snapped back.

'Now look here, young woman,' McCoy growled, keeping his temper in check with an obvious effort, 'on this ship, my medical authority is final!'

'Authority?' she shrieked. 'You don't have any authority over me!' She bounced to her feet in one fluid movement and starting to pace around the room. Even her hair seemed to flow with agitation and rage. 'How dare you order me about like this? I didn't ask to be hauled up here and have machines doing God knows what to me and have needles stuck in my arm…'

'Dr. McCoy's hypodermics do not use needles,' Spock said precisely, 'they use a form of pressurisation…'

'Don't interrupt me!' Sally yelled, working her way well over the top at full speed. 'If you think that saving my life entitles you to run my life, you have another think coming. I won't be dictated to, I won't!'

And Kirk laughed.

He could not help himself. He should have been worried, should have thought what might happen if a telepath as powerful as she was decided to let rip. But somehow he knew, with a bedrock certainty, that she was dramatising for the sheer spectacle of it, and enjoying it hugely.

'Behave yourself. Right now,' he said, and knew that he would be obeyed.

Sally glared at him through narrowed eyes for a couple of seconds. Then she shrugged and said, 'Okay. _After _the good doctor has finished turning me inside out, can I see the ship?

'You have a certain single-mindedness that might be admirable under other circumstances, Sally. Sounds like a fair deal to me. How long will your tests take, Bones?'

'About an hour, Jim.' McCoy's brows were still lowered as he contemplated their disruptive guest. 'Providing we don't have any more scenes like that one…'

'Don't you scowl at me,' said Sally, scenting battle.

'Sally, _enough. _I'll come and rescue you in about an hour.'

'That's all very well,' McCoy muttered darkly as they left together, 'but I suspect _I'm _the one who's going to need rescuing.'

Spock, whose face during Sally's outburst had worn the most peculiar expression Kirk had ever seen on it – a sort of blend of censure and displeasure, combined with a certain air of not believing what he was seeing – now met Kirk's look of amusement with a stony stare. The lines of disapproval did not abate.

'I saw nothing in that disgraceful display to smile at, Captain,' he said severely.

'No, Mr Spock,' Kirk agreed. 'I did, however, get the impression that Sally was having the time of her life.'

'I do not for one moment doubt that she was, sir,' Spock replied repressively. 'It was still a most undisciplined performance.'

'Yes, Mr Spock,' Kirk said, giving up. He did not feel equal to the task of explaining to Spock that the whole scene had meant nothing; that Sally had just wanted an excuse to rant and rave and generally make an exhibition of herself. That, it seemed, was _her_ escape valve.

Kirk turned away from Spock to check in with the Bridge and instruct Uhura to send details of the six survivors to Starbase 11. When he next looked at Spock, the Vulcan appeared more like his normal self.

'Well, Mr Spock, you're the expert on telepathy. What's your professional opinion of the lady?'

'I would hardly class myself as an expert, Captain,' Spock replied, predictably enough. 'However, even I can see that she is a telepath of unique power. Normal telepaths can, to use the vernacular, 'read' minds but it does require considerable effort, or physical contact in the case of a touch telepath like myself. Miss Kilsyth can not only pick up thoughts without any effort, she can transmit also. In fact, she does not seem to be able to help doing so.' An expression of near-revulsion crossed his face but it was gone so quickly Kirk could not be sure that he hadn't imagined it. 'To put it in simple terms, Miss Kilsyth is a living communications centre. With no off-switch.'

'Yes,' Kirk said dryly, 'I'd noticed that. Can you train her?'

'In three weeks?' Spock's left eyebrow disappeared into his hairline. 'The Vulcan mind control technique is a lifetime discipline, Captain. Even the most basic methods can take years to learn.'

'Yes, I appreciate that,' Kirk said, rubbing his nose thoughtfully, 'but there must be something you can do, Spock. To put it bluntly, there has to be. Sally can go up like a rocket as often as she likes for all I care, but I can't have another episode like this morning. You did say you'd given her some elementary instruction already…'

'Very elementary, sir,' the Vulcan said stiffly. 'I shall do my best, of course, if you request it. However, reflex telepathy is something almost totally outwith my experience. I am not even sure whether control techniques developed for touch telepaths will adapt for these circumstances. In fact, since she must ultimately be trained by a reflex telepath, I may conceivably do more harm than good.'

Kirk did not reply at once. He knew he must voice the suspicion that had been growing in him since Spock had first entered the room but he did not know how to do it without causing offence or, perhaps worse still, embarrassment. He had always guarded most carefully against intruding into Spock's private life, never asking questions that might be construed as requests for personal information, always waiting until Spock himself was ready to volunteer a confidence.

Sally had altered the whole scenario. She seemed to have the ability to encroach directly into the Vulcan's mind and Kirk was pretty certain she had already done so. He said carefully, feeling his way,

'I'm sorry if I'm asking too much of you. I know very little about telepathy but I do know that Sally must be controlled somehow. Are we agreed so far?'

'Unquestionably.' The Vulcan had placed his hands palms down on the desk and was steadfastly regarding them.

'And that you are the only person on board capable of attempting to teach her to do just that.'

'Also agreed, Captain. I do not deny it. I merely doubt the efficaciousness of such a project.'

'It's more than that,' Kirk said softly, 'isn't it?'

There was a long silence. Then, without raising his eyes, Spock said,

'Captain, Miss Kilsyth has an undisciplined, emotional and totally illogical mind. To instruct her, our minds would have to… touch. I do not find that an agreeable prospect. She…'

He was having obviously difficulty in explaining what he meant, but Kirk had no problems understanding. He had found Sally's violent presence in his mind an intrusive and humiliating sensation, and it was not an experience he would willingly repeat. Even her gentle presence later had been disconcerting, since she had picked up as much from him as he had from her. Bad enough for him, who was used to making no secret of his emotions.

Appalling for Spock.

Spock continued, as if it was a relief to be finally making the confession,

'I do not believe I could maintain my blocks against her in that situation. I am already having difficulty.'

This was worse, far worse than Kirk had imagined. He said uselessly,

'I'm very sorry, Mr Spock. Is she aware of the extent of the problem?'

'She could hardly be otherwise,' Spock pointed out. 'I should say, in all justice, that she is not deliberately attempting to access my thoughts. But even she does not realise the power she has at her command.'

'Ye..es,' Kirk said thoughtfully, 'which brings me to another point. Her telekinetic power. Is it dangerous?'

'I think not,' the Vulcan said. There was a slight hesitation in his voice that Kirk pounced on at once.

'But you're not sure, are you? You don't know.'

'No,' Spock admitted reluctantly, 'I don't know. Captain, I have never met a telepath with such strength. I have no way of measuring exactly what she is capable of. I am, however, fairly certain that she does not have the ability to _create_ objects, or change their molecular structure. She can merely manipulate them.'

'Then let us be grateful for small mercies. Your recommendations?'

'She must go to Vulcan eventually: we are the only race who possess an advanced telepathic training school. But she _cannot,_' this very emphatically, 'be sent to Vulcan in her present untutored state.'

'No,' Kirk agreed, repressing a shudder at the thought of the volatile Sally bursting on to Vulcan. 'I'll send a request to Starbase 11 for a reflex telepath to meet her on arrival. And while she's here…'

'I will attempt to instruct her, Captain, of course.' Spock raised his eyes for the first time in that conversation and Kirk was shocked at the haunted expression in them.

'Spock, if there was any other way…'

'I quite understand, sir. I shall do what is required.'

Kirk decided against offering any further sympathy for the moment, as it would probably discompose Spock even further. However, he made up his mind then and there that Sally would have to be put out of action somehow if Spock were to show many more signs of strain. He did not particularly want to do something so drastic, but Spock was his First Officer – and his friend. He could not afford to have qualms where Spock's mental health was concerned.

'Well, we can't very well chuck her overboard, so we'll have to ride with the dilemma for the moment. I'll see if the lady herself has any suggestions to offer.' He rubbed at a muscle at the back of his neck; he was beginning to feel as if he'd been through a very long workout with at least four Vulcans. 'How long before I collect her from McCoy?'

'22.25 minutes, sir,' Spock said, precise as always.

'Good, I've just got time for a shower. I want you and McCoy to meet me in the Briefing Room at 21.00 tonight.'

Spock nodded and headed for the door as Kirk went to the intercom, intending to call Uhura and instruct her to place the call for a telepath to Starbase 11. As his finger touched the button, the floor seemed to heave sideways. Spock staggered but kept his balance; Kirk was thrown, not lightly, to the floor.

Every alarm on the ship started screaming.

The jolt could have been nothing less than a direct phaser hit. Kirk rolled to his knees, cursing fluently.

'We're under attack! Why the devil didn't Scott call me…'

Spock was bending over him, putting down a hand to help his captain to his feet.

'Miss Kilsyth,' he said succinctly.

McCoy's voice came over the intercom at that moment, exasperation in the tone.

'McCoy to Captain and crew. No-body panic, please. Scotty, turn those damn things off!' The alarms wailed for another two or three seconds, then died abruptly. 'My patient took exception to one of my tests. She is extremely apologetic and says it won't happen again.' His inflexion did not seem to hold out much hope of that.

'Which test, I wonder?' Kirk said, before he could help himself. He glanced at Spock's stony face, flipped the intercom toggle and said, 'McCoy, I'm on my way down.'

He and Spock headed out into the corridor. They parted at the elevator, and, as the doors swept open for him, Kirk said,

'She's going to be a problem, Spock.'

'Yes, sir,' the Vulcan said expressionlessly, 'she is.'

Kirk arrived in McCoy's office to find Sally alone there, sitting on McCoy's desk and swinging her legs idly. She had a singularly mutinous expression on her face which did not abate when she saw Kirk.

'It's no good losing your temper, I've _said _I'm sorry and I'll try not to do it again and I am sick to death of being told what a nuisance I am,' she said rapidly, before he could get a word out.

'I'm pretty certain I'm not going to lose my temper,' Kirk told her, 'but I do want to talk to you.' He perched on the desk beside her and added, Before we start, do you want anything to eat?'

Sally gave a reluctant chuckle.

'Now that you mention it…'

Kirk handed her the large bar of chocolate he had had the foresight to provide himself with and asked,

'Where's McCoy?'

'In there,' said Sally, through a mouthful of chocolate, gesturing with the remains of the bar at the inner Sickbay. 'I did something dreadful to the diagnostic bed he was using – blew its fuse, if it has such a thing – and he's looking it over with a screwdriver, Mr Scott and some quite amazing language. I learned a thing or two,' she added appreciatively.

'This is no laughing matter,' Kirk said, seeing a quiver shake the corner of her mouth.

'No,' she said, 'I'm sorry. Oh, hell. I've spent all my time here disrupting things and then having to apologise. It's getting to be pretty boring.'

'Boring is not exactly how I would chose to describe it,' Kirk replied, a little dryly. 'How did you manage on Staxis – without driving the rest of the population to insanity, I mean?'

'We lived way out in the country – my range is limited to between 5 and 10 miles, we think, although that isn't much help at the moment – and my mother had 'the sight' herself, passed down through the female generation for years, so I suppose we were just used to it. School was a shock, because it took a while to get used to having all these thoughts in my head. The biggest problem to telepaths, you know, is not their thoughts getting out, it's everyone else's coming in. Gets kind of confusing, especially to a six year old. The telekinesis came in kind of handy, though. I was never bullied. And I was always happy, you see.'

There was a forlorn note in her voice that brought a sudden tightness to Kirk's throat. He had forgotten, through the events of this day, that she had lost everything she had ever held precious; that although the war had happened over two hundred years ago, for her it had been yesterday and her grief was today's.

'I shouldn't have been there, you know,' she said. 'The sleepers were meant for the best, the scientists and the leaders. You've got our President, his son, the head of the Genetic Engineering Institute and some woman who was very high up in the army next door. My brother should have been in that sleeper. He was a doctor. He knew what was going to happen and he drugged me. It should have been him.'

McCoy stalked through from the inner Sickbay with a sonic screwdriver in his hand and a look of barely leashed impatience on his face.

'Next time,' he said to Sally, 'I'll make you fix it. You are a damned nuisance, miss.'

'Can you spare me a minute, doctor?' Kirk said as McCoy, having thoroughly subdued Sally, turned to go back into the hospital room.

'About 10 seconds,' McCoy growled. 'I've got four patients in there who all want to know what's happened in the last two hundred years, not to mention the added complication of a young woman who disrupts not only my equipment but also most of the people on this ship…'

'That's enough, doctor,' Kirk snapped, in the command tone, because he was picking up more than the short, staccato sentences from Sally. Despite the bravado of her performance, she was desperately worried about what she might do next. About what they might do.

McCoy opened his mouth to take issue with Kirk's tone, saw Sally's face, and shut it again. He sat down behind his desk and said,

'I'm sorry, Sally. It's been a bad day.'

'I know it,' said Sally. From anyone else it would have been an expression of sympathy. From Sally, it was a statement of total fact.

'Okay, then,' Kirk said, softening the tone somewhat but keeping it stern, 'we have a problem. Everyone agrees on that, including the problem herself. So what we need to do is decide how to handle it. Agreed?'

'Agreed,' McCoy and Sally said together.

'Well, then, here are my suggestions. Sally, you will spend a great deal of time with Mr Spock – and I don't care whether that appeals to you or not…'

'Did I say a word? Did I?' Sally protested.

'You will also,' Kirk continued, ignoring her, ' try to give us some warning if you think you're going to lose control. Can you do that?'

'I can but try,' Sally replied, rubbing her ear thoughtfully. 'Of course, the simplest solution would be to shoot me full of tranquilliser or put me to sleep until we reach Starbase 11. Have either of you thought of that?'

There was a moment of absolute silence during which Kirk and McCoy avoided looking at Sally and at each other. Then McCoy said snappily,

'Hell, it was just a passing thought, Sally. A person just can't keep his stupid ideas to himself round here any more.'

'I am not Gary Mitchell,' Sally said slowly, adding, to their look of surprise, 'Of course I know why you're worried. You've been comparing me to him ever since you found out about my power. But I've grown up with it; I haven't had the balance of my mind disturbed because suddenly I'm super-human. I can't make things, like he could, and I surely won't cause you harm deliberately. And I would let you restrain me if it became necessary. Although I sincerely hope it won't be.'

'So say we all,' McCoy responded, grinning at her. 'Sally, I could quite get to like you. You talk like a sensible woman – sometimes. Is there anything else, Jim? Because, if not, I have patients to get back to.'

Kirk shook his head and, as if on cue, a woman's voice raised itself in a wailing cry from the inner room. McCoy hauled himself, a little wearily, to his feet.

Sally slid off the desk and came round to stand at his side. She said,

'Let me. This is my field, not yours.'

The cry came again, a wordless keen of lament that chilled the blood.

'This isn't a medical problem,' Sally went on, 'and you've done all you can.'

'And what, exactly, were you thinking of doing, young woman?' McCoy asked. Kirk swivelled round to watch them. Sally's face wore a sudden look of white exhaustion and for the first time that day Kirk saw unadulterated grief in her eyes.

'You're not well enough,' McCoy said roughly, 'and you haven't the skill.'

'I don't need any skill for this,' Sally said, and added softly, 'This is our grief, doctor. Let us bury our dead alone.'

McCoy stood back to let her enter. Kirk saw her brace her shoulders; then the door shut quietly behind her, cutting off the sounds of weeping.

'She's brave, though,' McCoy said.

'Yes,' Kirk replied. There was a short silence. Kirk got up from the desk.

'Meeting in the Briefing Room at 21.00, Bones,' he said, and left for the bridge.

He spent the next two hours peacefully on the bridge. He signed some reports, read over McCoy's notes on the other Staxis survivors and requested Uhura to plan something special in the way of a party for them. Then he sat back in his chair and watched the bridge hum with routine activity around him as they moved out of orbit and back into space.

Spock was at his station, as usual. Kirk watched him covertly for a while, but he appeared to be his normal self; possibly a little more sombre, but Kirk would not have cared to take a bet on that.

From time to time he felt Sally chase across his mind and out again. He caught her sorrow and through it, the grief of the other survivors but the sensation was so subliminal that it was possible to ignore it unless his mind was completely unoccupied by anything else. He did not think anyone else (apart, possibly, from Spock, but that was pure speculation) was aware of her mental presence although she was the main topic of conversation. No-one, it appeared, was likely to forget their initial introduction to her powers for quite some time.

Uhura, after swapping notes with Sulu on the chaos that had reigned over their respective consoles, went on to say,

'Is it true that she's very beautiful, captain?'

'Yes,' Kirk said honestly, after a moment. 'I think I can truthfully say she's the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.'

-And you've had a few- said Sally's voice –so I expect you are in a position to judge-

He looked around, momentarily confused that although he had clearly heard her voice she was no-where in sight, and then it clicked with him. He sent out,

-Where are you?-

-My brand spanking new cabin, Deck 11, 4c. I'm ready for that tour now, if it's still on offer-

-Offer? I was under the impression it was more of a demand-

-Cut the sarcasm, Kirk, or I'll go without you-

-I'm on my way down-

He stood up and found Spock beside him, waiting to take the captain's chair.

'You have the conn, Mr Spock. I seem to have an appointment.'

Sally met him at the door of the cabin she had been allocated. Someone had obviously found time to show her how to use the fabricators on board since she had changed from her practical, if somewhat unflattering, overalls to a dress. Where she had unearthed the fabricator code Kirk had no idea but it should undoubtedly be classified 'Dangerous Weapon' and locked into obscurity at once. The delicate lilac fabric clung to every curve of her body without a wrinkle or a crease. She might as well have been naked.

As if they didn't have enough problems already, he thought bitterly. Did she have to be so very beautiful as well? She'd cause riots in any port between here and the Klingon system. She'd cause riots on board the 'Enterprise' if they weren't careful.

'You could always put a veil on me, you know,' Sally said chattily, 'or how about a sack? Or…'

'If you don't watch your step very carefully, I'll do just that,' Kirk replied. 'Shall we go?'

'I am entirely at your service, Cap'n Jim,' she said, sketching him a demure salute which was so at variance with the mischief in her eyes that it was all he could do to keep from laughing.

Kirk had toured the 'Enterprise' with ambassadors, aliens and sundry V.I.P's over the years but the tour he always remembered was the one where Sally Kilsyth charmed her way into the hearts of his crew.

Sally in the engine room, enchanting Scott with both her nationality and her intense interest in the workings of a starship. Asking him intelligent questions and listening carefully to the technical replies with every appearance of comprehension. Scott was obviously delighted; most visitors were more interested in the romantic side of the ship and had little time for the practicalities of running it that were so dear to his heart.

Walking through the ship's park, telling her the names of the flowers and the plants. Out of sheer habit, starting on the first phase of his formidable seduction technique by picking a golden rose and fastening it to her dress – then being brought up short by the fact that she undoubtedly knew exactly how many times it had been done before, and with what practised ease.

Showing her proudly round the bridge, admiring the easy way she made the acquaintance of the bridge crew. Watching Spock out of the corner of his eye, trying to find the faintest hint of some reaction to her. Finding none.

Sally, twirling round in the captain's chair, laughing.

Walking through the corridors with her, seeing the admiring glances, the raised eyebrows, the speculation.

'Sally saying, 'Your ship is beautiful, Cap'n Jim. What a lady.'

In the gym, Sally insisting on trying a few falls with the instructor, 'to get some of the stiffness out of my muscles.' Hitting the mat with a thump and giggling at her own clumsiness, getting up to try again and again until she got it right. All the men in the room – and most of the women – stopping to watch her. Highly amused by this audience, turning cartwheels across the floor for their benefit. Ending up inelegantly sprawled, dress ridden up to her thighs, with half a dozen crewmen rushing to help her to her feet.

Kirk ended the tour, as he usually did, on the observation deck. With the ship flying at warp speed the effect was spectacular and he always enjoyed seeing a novice's reaction to it.

She stood rigid beside him, as if stunned. When he realised she was weeping silently, he had her in his arms before he was even aware he had moved.

There was no passion in the gesture. That first impulse had begun to die some time before and had vanished altogether as he walked through his ship with her. In its place had come a feeling that was new to Kirk and one that he could not easily define. He admired her and he appreciated her - and he knew it would be impossible for him ever to seduce her. The closest he could come to describing this new emotion was that, in the course of that day, she had become for him the sister he had never had, or the daughter he might one day have. He had discovered that she was brave, vulnerable and true; he wanted to protect her, to wipe away the bad dreams and give her happy memories. He wanted to give her back the life that she had lost, but all he could do for her now was hold her as she mourned the loss of her family and everything she had known.

Getting old, Kirk, he thought wryly to himself.

A watery chuckle from the region of his shoulder recalled him to the fact that Sally had probably picked that thought up, as well as a good deal more besides. She raised her head, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and regarded him severely.

'_So,_' she said, with a wealth of emphasis not diminished by the hiccup in the middle of the syllable, '_this _is where it all happens, is it? If it helps any, I would have turned you down. With enthusiasm.'

'Why?' Kirk asked, wondering if his vanity was wounded or merely surprised. 'I thought … when you came into my cabin, you were thinking…'

'As were you, Cap'n Jim, and therein likes the problem, I suspect. Does the expression 'peas in a pod' mean anything to you? You were the first personable male I'd seen in two hundred years. I'd have to be a saint not to have had some naughty thoughts. But, mainly, you're already in love with this ship and _I _am the last woman to take kindly to a rival.'

'You know too much,' he said, linking arms with her. They began to stroll down the length of the deck.

'I do,' she said, 'and you should be grateful for it. You and me, big mistake, I assure you. Now, if you could hook me up with that gym instructor…'

The tears, and the grief, might never have been. Sally, as well as Spock, seemed to have her own kind of barriers.

Kirk delivered Sally into Uhura's capable hands – at Uhura's own request, since she knew that it was in the highest degree unlikely that Kirk would have thought to discover what items of clothing, and so on, Sally stood in need of. The two of them became immediately absorbed in patterns and fabric so Kirk left them to it and made it to his shower at last.

BY the time he stepped out of it, clean and refreshed, he felt like a new man. He had not realised, until the fine needle spray had begun to massage his muscles, just how tired and bruised he was. Hungry, too. He dialled up a chicken sandwich and a pot of strong black coffee and wolfed them down before heading out to his meeting with McCoy and Spock.

He met McCoy at the door of the Briefing Room and Spock, who had been on duty on the bridge, joined them a few minutes later. Once they were all seated, Kirk said,

'How are the rest of our survivors, Bones?'

'Much better, captain. Sally did a good job of calming them down and they were doing some catch-up reading when I left. They should be up and about tomorrow.'

'Good, I'll meet them then. Spock, any problems on the bridge?'

'No, sir. A message came in from Starbase 11 while you were with Miss Kilsyth. They request full data on her abilities, both known and speculated, so that they can arrange to have a suitably equipped telepath on hand to begin her training.'

'Do you have her medical report ready, Bones?'

'Just,' McCoy replied. 'Do you want a run through?' Kirk nodded. 'Okay. Physically, she's a normal nineteen-year-old human female in good health considering the time she spent suspended and the shock we gave her system bringing her out of it so fast. She – and the rest of them – will suffer from muscle cramps for the next couple of weeks, but exercise will sort that out. Her intelligence quota is very high indeed, Jim. In fact, it's a good deal higher than the standard we would normally expect for a Star Fleet recruit. I think.'

'What do you mean 'you think'?' Kirk demanded. 'Didn't you run all the standard tests?'

'Yes, of course I did, Jim. Just think about it for a minute.'

Kirk thought. After a few seconds, it dawned.

'Good God,' he said slowly, 'of course. How do you tell if a telepath is cheating?'

'Exactly.' McCoy drummed his fingers on the table for some moments. 'How much of it was her own intelligence – and how much came from me, or someone else who knew the answers?'

'And if she did read you,' Kirk continued, 'does that make her answers any less valid? In fact, does it matter how she learns something as long as she's right?'

'It would make a great deal of difference, captain,' Spock said, 'depending on whether the knowledge she 'reads' is retained or merely temporary.'

'Any guesses on that one, Bones?'

'Nope. All I can tell you is that she sailed through all of my tests without batting one long eyelash, and looked as if she was enjoying herself, too.'

'It would make an interesting test case,' Kirk mused. 'If she decided to try for Star Fleet Academy… How would they handle the fact that she could do anyone's job as long as she had access to a mind that knew it?'

'Why,' said Spock, 'should she try to enter Star Fleet Academy, captain?'

Kirk looked at him, startled. Then he realised the implication behind the words, and grinned.

'No personal interest, Mr Spock. The lady is very beautiful but a little too demanding for me. No, I was thinking… it _would_ be very useful to have a fully fledged telepath on board, wouldn't it. She could turn her hand to anything. When she's trained, of course,' he added, as McCoy's face, which had borne a faintly sceptical expression at the start of this speech, was now frankly incredulous. 'I don't know that I'd describe her as useful at the moment.'

'She's a bloody nuisance at the moment.' McCoy said bluntly.

'Ye…es,' said Kirk. 'But when she isn't setting off alarms or shrieking like a banshee, hasn't it struck you how at home she is here? I feel like I've known her for years.'

'Well, you would, wouldn't you?' McCoy leaned back in his chair and regarded his captain ironically. 'She's been into your mind, Jim. She knows all about you. Of course she knows how to handle you.'

'You think it's that calculated?'

'I didn't say it was calculated,' McCoy objected. 'I find her very charming too. She has a pleasant personality – and it's largely due to her ability. We all of us have this desire to be completely understood by someone. Well, Sally can do it.'

'I agree with the doctor,' Spock said, somewhat unexpectedly. 'The term psychiatrists use is 'psychological visibility'.'

'Thank you, Spock,' McCoy said dryly, 'I do know what the psychiatric term is.'

'However,' Spock went on as if McCoy had not spoken, 'there is a difference between perceptiveness and assault.'

'Considering the fact that she's completely untrained, she's managed to keep the assaults to a minimum,' Kirk said, before he had time to think more carefully about what he was saying, and to whom.

'As you say, captain,' the Vulcan relied impassively.

'You don't like our Sally,' McCoy said suddenly, 'do you, Spock?'

Spock favoured him with a look that made him feel like some less than interesting bacterium.

'I bear the young lady no ill will. I merely object to power without discipline.'

'The lack of discipline is hardly her fault, Spock!' McCoy snapped.

'You were less tolerant in Sickbay earlier today, Doctor.'

'Yes, that's true.' McCoy admitted grudgingly. 'But she wasn't a person then. She was just… a problem. I've seen a good deal of her since and I've begun to admire her very much. She has courage, compassion and a sense of humour that wouldn't go amiss in certain other people!'

'I see nothing humourous in the fact that she very nearly killed the captain,' Spock said evenly.

So _that's _what this is all about, Kirk thought. And as usual, it took McCoy to bring it out. He said,

'Well, I wasn't killed. And I think if _I _can manage to forgive and forget, then so can you. End of subject.' He paused, and added, 'I think we've said all we can usefully say, unless either of you have any other comments?'

There were none. Kirk said,

'You have an appointment with Sally first thing in the morning, Mr Spock.'

'Yes, captain.'

As he rose to go, Kirk said softly,

'Mr Spock, I'm very sorry to have to ask this of you…'

'Quite unnecessary to apologise, captain.'

McCoy sat where he was and, the second Spock was out of the door, said,

'What's biting him?'

Kirk swung his feet on to the table, crossed his hands over his stomach and regarded the doctor ruefully.

'I'm not sure, Bones. I mean, I know it's Sally but I'm not quite sure _why._'

'Probably got something to do with when he melded with her,' McCoy said nonchalantly. The studied lightness of his tone did not quite hide his concern. 'I've never seen Spock so shaken when he came out of a meld before. I think he literally had to force her out of his mind.'

'Yes, almost certainly,' Kirk agreed. 'I really don't know how to handle this one, Bones; it's totally outwith my experience. I'm worried about the effect Sally seems to having on Spock – and yet I don't want to put her out of commission unless I have to.'

'I don't advise it,' McCoy said bluntly. 'I know my mind was running along the same lines while we were having so much trouble with her, but I was wrong. If we put Sally back under now… I would have serious concerns about the effect on her sanity.'

'Oh, great,' Kirk muttered. 'Get rid of one problem and another one leaps right out at you.'

'If you want my advice,' McCoy said, rising, 'Id leave them to fight it out between them. Spock is more than capable of looking after himself and Sally doesn't seem to be any kind of shrinking violet. Let them sort it out at their own level.'

'I hope you're right,' Kirk said, following him to the door.

Kirk went to bed that night very tired but after the first half hour he knew that, for once, he would be unable to switch off and go to sleep. His thoughts were revolving round his head at a speed that made it impossible for him to even imagine relaxing. So, with a sigh, he got up, fetched himself a coffee and prepared to try and sort his reflections into some kind of order.

Firstly, the survivors of the Staxis holocaust in general. They were a confused, unhappy set of people and in the three weeks it would take them to get to Starbase 11 and professional rehabilitators it would be the 'Enterprise's' job to help them begin to settle into a time completely removed from their own – a time where even the most basic functions of life were almost entirely unfamiliar. Due to the somewhat extraordinary events of that day, Kirk had not even had time to meet them yet, an omission he intended to remedy first thing in the morning.

Secondly, of course – Sally.

There had been a couple of ship-wide jolts from her through the evening, both of which had been preceded by a three-second warning (although not entirely sure, Kirk was pretty certain that the words 'shit' and 'fan' had been in there somewhere) which had been almost as bad as the actual event itself. Most of the casualties had been inanimate, in the form of smashed china; one crewman had fallen six feet down a Jeffries tube and broken a wrist. Sally had paid him a personal visit to apologise, which the crewman seemed to think was very fair compensation.

For some reason, Kirk had felt the force of Sally's outbursts more severely than anyone else, as far as he was capable of judging. He put it down to their experience in Sickbay, but it remained as a worry, lurking at the back of his mind; as did the fact that he seemed to have a subliminal awareness of what she was feeling almost all of the time. It was by no means intrusive and he had to concentrate in order to do it – but surely the contact they had made with each other would be fading by now? He wasn't enough of an expert on telepathy to know whether it was normal or not. Whatever 'normal' meant, in relation to Sally.

She came to him eventually, as he had known she would.

His door was open for her before she had time to buzz for admission. She slipped inside and stood quite still, watching him for his reaction.

She wore the gold brocade robe that was to become so familiar, full skirted and long sleeved, the heavy fabric sweeping the floor. With her hair hanging in loose plaits at either side of her face, she looked like a medieval princess.

'Come and sit down, Sally,' he said gently.

All the day's bravado and lightness had left her; she was frightened, and lonely, and she needed comfort. She said,

'I don't want to sleep alone, Cap'n Jim. I keep thinking I might not wake up again. I have horrible dreams. Can I stay?'

He went to her and held her without a word. Her scent surrounded him, from her skin and her hair; Sally's perfume and, like Sally, unique. Heady, aromatic, the aroma of evening lilies and warm spices, it was all of these things, sensuality made substance, and told him as much about her as the generous mouth could do.

He said to her mind,

-You're safe. Nothing will ever hurt you here. You're safe-

He held her through the night like a child and only when she finally slept, nestled against him, trusting and secure, did he sleep too.


	3. Chapter 3

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER THREE – TRANSIT

'You have marked him,' said Spock.

He did not add, 'And me.' He did not need to. The woman he confronted understood exactly what he meant. How much she knew of what was left unspoken was something that Spock did not want to begin to contemplate.

Sally did not attempt to deny his accusation or offer excuses for her actions. She merely said 'Yes,' and waited for him to continue.

'I do not expect you to realise what you have done…'

'Oh, but I do,' Sally interrupted. 'Of course I do. I have created a link between his mind and mine. I will always know where he is, what he is feeling. And if you want to know what I intend to do about it, the answer is… nothing.'

'You are completely unprincipled,' Spock said, the fury in him coming so close to the surface that it startled both himself and Sally.

'Ah, no,' Sally held up a hand – in protest? In self defence? – and let it fall again to her side. 'Spock, I _can't _undo it. Surely you, of all people, must know that? If I tried to undo a deep link now, I would have to cut out part of his mind. I would hurt him unbearably, and possibly permanently, because I don't have the skill to do it properly. And for what? In three weeks I'll be gone and he need never know that a link exists.'

'I would know,' Spock pointed out, and they both knew that he was no longer talking about Kirk alone.

Patience was not one of Sally's virtues, and the last few minutes had exhausted her limited stock. She jumped to her feet and shouted,

'Well, what the _hell_ would you have me do? The only way to destroy the link now is to kill me and I am not into self-sacrifice, thanks very much.' She brought both fists down, hard, on the table in front of her. 'Nor do I intend to spend the rest of my life feeling guilty about violating your bloody privacy. God knows I find your mind as uninteresting as you find mine and if you had minded your own bloody business in the first place, none of this would have happened. So you can stuff that in your Vulcan pipe and smoke it.'

She kicked the table savagely to emphasise her point.

The ship rocked.

'Miss Kilsyth…'

'Don't speak to me!' shrieked Sally, at the top of her voice.

The intercom whistled.

'Mr Spock,' Kirk's filtered voice said, a little reproachfully, 'you seem to be having problems.'

Spock went over to the intercom, keeping a wary eye on Sally.

'Spock here, captain. I trust you are undamaged.'

'_I _am. The same cannot be said of my breakfast, unfortunately.'

'My apologies, sir. I anticipate that the problem is of a merely temporary nature…'

'Don't hold your breath,' Sally advised loudly.

'Sally, if you don't shut up and behave I'll lock you in the brig for the rest of the trip,' Kirk's voice said. He knew this was a fairly empty threat and waited for a comment, but none came. Sally had clearly recognised the genuine exasperation in his tone. Pointedly ignoring Spock, she flounced – there was no other way to describe it – to the nearest chair and sat down. She then folded her arms, crossed her legs, and assumed an expression of idiotic docility.

'Would you rather continue your instruction at a later date, Mr Spock?' Kirk asked.

'Miss Kilsyth seems quite calm at the moment,' Spock said. He did not venture an opinion as to how long this state of affairs was likely to last.

'Very well. I leave the decision up to you. Good luck.'

Spock turned back to Sally.

'Don't you look at me in that tone of voice,' she said immediately.

Spock sighed. He found himself completely at a loss in his dealings with her. Most humans had, albeit deeply buried, some cornerstone of logic that he could relate to. Sally appeared to have none; for most of the time they did not even seem to be speaking the same language. What, for instance, had she meant by that last remark? Semantically, it made no sense.

Every moment spent with her felt like walking on eggshells over ice. He had no way of knowing if the next remark he made would precipitate fury, hysteria or just amusement since she appeared to be capable of generating all these emotions indiscriminately and, quite frequently, all at the same time.

'Miss Kilsyth,' he said, 'the captain has requested me to endeavour to impart to you the basics of Vulcan mind control technique. The task is difficult enough to begin with. You seem to be determined to make it impossible.'

''I can make it more than impossible if you don't stop lecturing me,' Sally retorted. She rose to her feet in one fluid movement and came over to him, standing so close that he could feel her breath on his face as she spoke.

'Mr Spock, you will drive me to insanity with your suspicion of my motives. You must surely realise that I did not forge the link deliberately. I do not have some deep and hidden reason for allowing it to continue. I simply can't undo it.'

'I have not…'

'Good grief, you've been accusing me of it ever since I woke up!' Sally snapped. 'I will never do anything to hurt him. That's what this is all about, isn't it? You want to be sure I won't harm him somehow.'

Spock said, forcing himself to be fair to her,

'I believe… you would not do so intentionally.'

'Key word 'intentionally', right? Well, I don't suppose I can blame you for that. I can tell you till I'm blue in the face that I won't hurt him, and you still won't believe me…'

He felt her mind then, moving down the link that was so much stronger than her link with Kirk. He called on all his reserves of discipline to repulse her, some barrier strong enough to let her know how distasteful this contact with her was.

-You will not shut me out-

-I do not want this-

-I love him too, I will never hurt him, he is dear to me-

-I do not want this… You almost killed him-

-Please trust me. I would give my life to protect him-

-If you harm him I will give you no peace ever again-

-Why must you hide?-

'Enough!' Spock said out loud. Sally stepped back as if she had been struck.

'That will always be between us, then,' she said sadly. She drew herself up and stood sword straight, defiantly. 'Very well, I accept the debt. If I must spend then rest of my life repaying it then – so be it.'

For the first time since he had known her, Spock felt something akin to admiration. She had taken the burden of guilt without question, without complaint, and he sensed a strength of purpose in her that would see it through.

She would find some way to repay the debt.

For the link with himself, he could scarcely blame her. That had been as much his doing as hers, the only way he could reach her traumatised mind to bring it out from the well of insanity into which it had sunk and thus prevent her from doing damage to those who could not protect themselves. He had acted instinctively, for Kirk's sake, without considering what it might mean, but it had to be faced now; he was tied to this woman's mind for life, held by an irrevocable bond that only the death of one of them could sunder. And since he was telepathic where Kirk was not, his link with Sally was correspondingly stronger. He would never be entirely free of the reflections of her emotions and she, unless he constantly kept his barriers at full strength, could gain immediate access to his thoughts. It was an appalling prospect.

Sally was biting her lower lip thoughtfully, watching him. Reading him.

'You do me a great wrong, Spock,' she said. 'It is no joy to me that this link exists between us. I am not a trained telepath, as you are. I have spent my whole life never free from the thoughts of those around me. And now, just as it looks like I'm going to learn to shut them out, I find myself bound to you whether I will or not.'

He knew that she spoke the truth and still it did not help. He had no choice but to trust her and it irked him more than he knew, to put his life so completely into a stranger's hands.

Sally started to pace round the room. She had just come out of the shower when Spock arrived and the brocade robe she had belted loosely around her to greet him parted to reveal a long expanse of smooth leg. Spock watched her without reaction. He recognised the physical fact of her beauty – to deny that would be illogical – but it left him unmoved.

She turned to face him again. Her face was pale and he realised that the extravagance of the various emotional displays she had but him through that morning had left her still-recuperating body very near exhaustion.

'I suppose we just have to accept what's done is done,' she said rapidly. 'With any luck, we need never see each other again once I've gone…'

'You will come back,' Spock said, in the tone of one who says 'The Earth is round.' Sally, suddenly brought face-to face with the fact that the link was, after all, two way, said furiously.

'I am _not _going to spend the rest of my life worrying how my actions will affect _you. _And if you would do the job you came here to do, we might all get on a lot faster.'

With this breath-takingly unfair comment, she flung herself into the nearest chair, scowling furiously and very near tears.

'Miss Kilsyth…' Spock said awkwardly.

'Be quiet!' Sally commanded savagely. She beat her hands together several times – possibly, Spock thought, as an alternative to actually hitting him. He waited until she seemed to have brought herself under control.

'If you are ready to continue, I do have duties to get back to.'

'Yes, of course you do,' she said, relatively calmly. 'Very well, I'm ready.'

He reached for the link; no need for touch between them. As he sank deeper into her mind, he found one thought clear and determined among all the rest.

-I will repay the debt-

Kirk saw very little of Sally in the next two weeks. Much of her time was spent with Spock, who cautiously admitted she was making progress. Certainly her outbursts, both verbal and telepathic, had become fewer and less explosive although Kirk did not for a moment imagine that this was an accurate reflection of her internal emotions.

When she was not practising mental disciplines with Spock, Sally, along with the rest of the Staxis people, was ordered to the gym for at least two hours a day under McCoy's eye. She was turning out to be quite an adept little gymnast and although she would never be a great one – those long years of sleep had cost her muscles vital elasticity – she took a great deal of joy in drilling her body into the best possible shape.

She had also, Kirk was pleased to see, formed a warm and easy friendship with Uhura and it was in Uhura's company that he saw her most often. They made an attractive contrast, the one so dark and calm and the other so pale and fiery. When the two of them staged an impromptu hand-to-hand combat match one afternoon, word sped round the ship like wildfire and by the time Sally and Uhura had retired, gasping and laughing after admitting that Uhura had the ascendancy, almost two-thirds of the male crew had managed to find an excuse to pass through the gym. Kirk was one of them, which prompted a minor telepathic explosion from Sally, absolutely none of which was in any way printable, and all of which made him laugh. It only occurred to him afterwards how absolutely normal he now found that method of communication with her.

The 'welcome to the 'Enterprise'' party Kirk had requested Uhura to organise took place during the second week of their homeward flight. It was held in the huge conference hall and was timed so that most of the crew were able to attend at one time or another. Uhura played the part of hostess with her usual style and grace, wearing a gold off-the-shoulder number that did wonders for her silk-dark skin. She kept a close eye on their guests, plying them with the best food the galley could produce and making sure they were never short of partners.

Sally, of course, needed no such helping hand.

Kirk was present when she arrived. Her costume seemed to consist of four iridescent green triangles and it made the collective male temperature rise by at least 3 degrees. Kirk did not think she was wearing anything underneath them; he did not, quite honestly, see how she could be.

There was an immediate rush to her side. Between the heads of her admirers, Sally gave Kirk a grin that suggested she was hugely enjoying herself. Kirk grinned back at her and shouldered his way through the crowd towards her.

'Sorry, ensign,' he said to the crestfallen young man who had been about to take her on to the dance floor, 'Captain's privilege.'

'That was sneaky,' Sally said approvingly. She danced well, allowing him to lead and matching her body's rhythm to his. Her glorious hair fell loose to her waist and felt warm to his touch.

'There are times when I positively enjoy pulling rank,' Kirk replied. 'How are you? I haven't seen much of you lately.'

'That _wasn't _what you were thinking a minute ago,' she said demurely enough, but her eyes were alight with mischief.

'Are you by any chance fishing for compliments, Miss Kilsyth?'

'Certainly am, Cap'n Jim.'

'I must admit,' Kirk said, holding her at arm's length and examining her critically, 'you make our ship's uniform look infinitely respectable by contrast. How do you get it to stay on?'

'It's glued,' Sally said. As Kirk's shoulders started to shake with mirth, she added severely, 'Don't laugh. I don't know how I'm going to get it off. Jim! Do you want everyone to think you're insane? Get up off the floor and stop laughing this minute…'

Kirk eventually left Sally four deep in eager young men and proceeded to do his duty by Uhura, Christine Chapel and Grace de Maurier. He then spotted McCoy in a corner accompanied by several very interesting bottles. He went over.

'What've you got for a pair of aching legs, Bones?'

'Strange that you should mention it,' McCoy replied. 'I happen to have just the thing.' He handed Kirk a double brandy and both men sipped in silent enjoyment until a banshee wail from the dance floor caused Kirk to choke on his drink.

'What the hell is that woman up to now?' he muttered, turning. The spectacle before him had him rooted to the spot.

Sally, with Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott (in full kilt) were alone in the centre of the floor. Sally had acquired a tartan sash from somewhere which, although totally ridiculous with her costume, did at least have the benefit of covering the major indecencies. The air was filled with the skirl of the pipes as she and Scott charged up and down the floor in a dazzling display of what Kirk could only assume was Scottish country dancing. As he watched another horrendous wail rent the air, this time from Scott.

'Is that Scotty?' McCoy said, squinting in disbelief. 'I do believe he's lost his mind.'

'Jim!' shrieked Sally, in mid-fling. 'Get yourself a partner and start dancing!'

Kirk looked around him and spotted Uhura. She was clapping in time to the music and her feet her tapping. Kirk's own feet started moving towards her of their own accord, driven by the infectious beat of the music. He cocked an enquiring eyebrow at McCoy.

'No thanks,' the doctor said with emphasis, picking up a bottle of bright red liquid. 'Far too energetic for me…'

Sixty seconds later, McCoy and Kirk found themselves whirling round on opposite sides of a set, performing something called the 'eightsome reel'. Sally, hair flying, was standing in the middle of the room, shouting directions and encouragement at the top of her not inconsiderable voice.

'Okay everyone, start yelling… it isn't the _same_ if you don't… Bones! You're going the wrong way… Where are those yells?'

As an example, she threw back her head and gave vent to a full-blooded roar that might well have had its ancestry on the plain at Bannockburn.

The 'Enterprise' had never seen anything like it.

It had been the best party ever. Kirk strolled up to the bridge for a last check before he turned in for the night and found Spock in the command chair. The Vulcan rose as Kirk entered; Kirk waved him back and straddled the bridge veranda.

'You didn't come to the party, Mr Spock,' he said.

'No, sir. I did not think the occasion warranted the presence of us both. I trust you enjoyed yourself?'

'I did. Uhura has a wonderful knack for organisation and Sally could set fire to Niagara Falls if she felt like it. And boy, did she feel like it,' he added, thinking ruefully that certain leg muscles would no doubt punish him for his energy on the morrow. 'If you could have seen McCoy's attempt at a Highland Fling, you'd have laughed…'

He tailed off in the face of Spock's blank stare. Some of his sense of well-being dissipated under the knowledge that he would probably never make Spock understand the simple joys of throwing inhibitions to the wind for just a while.

'On the other hand, you probably wouldn't have,' he said with a sigh.

'Probably not sir,' the Vulcan said blandly and Kirk blinked. No matter how many times it happened, he still felt a small shock of surprise when Spock played up to him.

'Any problems, Mr Spock?'

'None at all, sir.'

'In that case, I'll turn in. See you in the morning.'

'Good night, Captain.'

Kirk left him sitting in the command chair, upright, still and silent. As he sent the elevator to deposit him at his quarters Kirk wished, not for the last time, that he knew exactly what Spock thought of Sally Kilsyth.

During the last week of their trip, Kirk saw Sally almost constantly. She had made friends all over the ship and thus contrived to get into places that a passenger would not normally be allowed to take so much as a peep at.

In the Engineering Room with Scott, discussing dilithium crystal imbalances for all the world as if she had been an engineer as long as he had. In the Physics lab with Sulu, mixing chemicals for one of his experiments like a pro. In Sickbay, feeding tissue samples to McCoy's bio-comp, with McCoy himself watching her complacently.

When Kirk ventured to protest that Sally had absolutely no business doing anything in Sickbay at all, let alone acting as a stand-in for McCoy's nursing staff, McCoy responded,

'I'm experimenting, Jim. I want to find out just what that young lady can do and what she can't. And as far as I can judge,' he added thoughtfully, 'there's very little that she can't. Hell, she could navigate this ship or run Spock's precious library computer if she put her mind to it.'

'Not her mind, Bones,' Kirk pointed out. 'His.'

'Makes very little difference. She could still do it, whether the mind she was flashing was unconscious or a mile away. You're the one who said it would be useful to have a telepath about the place, remember?'

'Oh, I still think there would be advantages,' Kirk said, 'and I also think it might be a little tough on Sally. Here we are, all telling her that she has to control her mind and _not _read us – and then you start actively encouraging her to do just that. How will she learn on her own account if all she has to do is pick someone's brains for as long as she needs to?'

'I'm not suggesting that Sally use her power as an alternative to education,' McCoy replied crossly, taking a couple of hasty steps round the office. 'God almighty, she wouldn't have it that way even if I did. Once she's trained, it'll take a major crisis to get her to read someone – but wouldn't it be nice to know that if there _was _a crisis you'd have her to fall back on?'

'You've changed your tune. Not long ago you described her as a 'bloody nuisance' and now you're advocating her permanent presence on board.'

'She's still a nuisance,' McCoy said, with a reluctant grin, ' but she's fun. She's so full of life that it makes me tired just to be in the same room with her. And don't you dare tell her I said that. She gets enough compliments as it is.'

'I don't expect I'll need to tell her,' Kirk reminded him. 'You old humbug, Bones. You've fallen under her spell too.'

'Yes, I do like her,' McCoy said, a little defiantly. 'I never expected to after all the trouble she caused but… the place just won't be the same without her, and I hope she comes back.'

'I hope she does too,' Kirk said, making for the door. 'But unless she comes back in uniform, try to remember that officially she's just a passenger and if Star Fleet finds out she's been helping to run this ship there'll be all hell to pay.'

'I'll remember it,' McCoy replied.

The night before they were due to arrive at Starbase 11, Sally invited Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Uhura to dinner in her cabin.

Kirk arrived to find both women dressed for the occasion – Uhura in one of her African kaftans, flowing with hot, vivid colours and Sally in a glittering icicle of a dress that at first looked perfectly respectable. When she brought him his drink, however, he discovered that it was split to the thigh on both sides as well as being completely backless. He grinned in approval.

'You both look lovely,' he said, sincerely. He had thought that Sally would overshadow any woman she was set beside yet, strangely, something of her sparkle seemed to impart itself to others when they were together; Kirk had never seen Uhura in better looks.

'We know,' Sally said complacently.

Spock and McCoy arrived together some minutes after Kirk and it was obvious from their expressions – McCoy's thunderous and Spock's stony – that some kind of debate had been going on between them, which, as usual, had degenerated. Sally had her back to them both as they stepped into the room, but she said without moving,

'This is my last night and I will have no fighting at my dinner table. Anyone who feels he will not be able to maintain a pleasant and civilised manner had better leave now.' She turned her head to lift a challenging eyebrow at Spock and Kirk realised that she had been learning more than mind control techniques from the Vulcan. The cool cast of her face was almost an exact duplicate of his.

Spock bowed gravely to her.

'I will comply with your wishes, Miss Kilsyth.'

'I am very glad to hear it, Mr Spock. Bones?'

'If Spock can be civilised, I certainly can,' McCoy retorted, taking a drink from Uhura. 'Lieutenant, you look stunning,' he continued, as if to prove his point. 'Even you look almost respectable, Sally. Oh, I might have guessed. You don't.'

Sally twitched her long skirt back over her legs and said,

'Shall we all be seated? I'll have you know I cooked all this myself,' she added, as bowls of soup appeared from the corridor, waltzing somewhat haphazardly through the door to arrive on the table. 'It's been a while since I did any cooking, but I don't think I've lost the knack.'

Kirk eyed the thick red liquid dubiously. It didn't look right to him but then, what did he know?

'Did you?' he asked. 'I see you even looked him some Vulcan recipes.'

'We…ell,' Sally said slowly. 'I cannot tell a lie. Programmed up would be a better description. I took one very quick look at the ingredients – how can you _eat _that stuff? – and decided I could trust the auto chef to produce it. Everything else is by my own fair hand.'

Kirk took a sip of soup and then, in one of the most heroic gestures of his life, another. He glanced round the table. Conversation had stopped and, with the exception of Spock, who calmly continued to eat his plomeek soup, so had all consumption. Sally, who had waited for her guests to start, now cast a suspicious look round her silent table and took her first sip. She then, to Spock's obvious revulsion, promptly spat it out again.

'Oh, crap!' she said. 'That's disgusting!'

'It is without doubt the worst soup I ever tasted,' Kirk said frankly. 'What in God's name did you do to it?'

'I have no idea. Bugger, do you think the rest of it's as bad?'

Fortunately, since the rest of the meal turned out to be just as inedible, she chose to see the funny side, laughing like a drain as she floated everything off to the waste disposal unit.

They ended up sprawled on the floor (Spock chose to remain upright on the only hard chair in the room) eating bread, cheese and fruit with their fingers in a sort of impromptu picnic which Kirk thought was probably more fun than the formal meal she had planned. It was a good evening. Sally was in fine form, trading wisecracks with McCoy and even attempting, without conspicuous success, to chop logic with Spock from time to time. Wine, whisky and brandy were consumed. Kirk found himself sitting in a haze of alcohol and good conversation, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long while.

He had not seen Sally and Spock together since her first day on board and he let the others carry the conversation for a moment while he studied them discreetly. More and more he was convinced that Sally had formed some kind of mental tie with Spock in those traumatic hours after she had woken up in Sickbay – and there was absolutely nothing in their attitude towards each to substantiate this opinion.

Spock was polite, formal and grave towards her. Sally was none of these things in return, but then she had not been formal towards anyone and Kirk could not think of a time when she had been particularly polite or grave either. She laughed at him, she teased him, she argued with him constantly, and at no time did Kirk see any difference between her attitude to Spock and her attitude to McCoy and himself.

Kirk knew, at least, how Sally felt about himself. She regarded him with a kind of sisterly affection that was tinged with a basic awareness that he was male and she was female. Their comradeship seemed to be in spite of their difference in sex, not because of it. He was aware that this was a very female woman and very much a woman; she had not passed one night alone since her arrival. Although, it had to be said, Kirk was beginning to have some few doubts as to the amatory skills of some of his crew, since he very rarely had to resort to the mental equivalent of banging on the adjoining wall in order to get some uninterrupted sleep. It then occurred to him that he should find this phenomenon disconcerting whereas having Sally floating in and out of his head seemed perfectly natural to him now.

'Cap'n Jim, you aren't still thinking about my atrocious food, I hope?'

Kirk collected his thoughts hastily and said,

'I have to admit, I find it quite endearing that there is something about you that isn't perfect. Is there anything else you can't do?'

'I can't play chess,' she admitted, 'can I, Spock?'

'Absolutely not,' the Vulcan confirmed, with more promptness and emphasis than was strictly polite. 'Mainly, I suspect, because chess is a game of logic and strategy.'

'I can do great strategy! I love sending all the little pawns off to battle, and the knights into single combat… don't look at me like that, it's only a game.'

Kirk, Uhura and McCoy all started talking at once before Spock could take issue with this sacrilege. Once the babble had died down, Uhura said,

'She _can_ sing, though, Captain. Haven't you heard her?'

'Is she good?'

'Her range is not as wide as Miss Uhura's,' Spock said pedantically, 'nor is the tone quite as sweet. But the voice is pleasant and will be above average when properly trained.'

'You know him better than me. Was that a compliment?' Sally asked Uhura.

'As close as you're ever likely to get,' Uhura confirmed.

'Oh, be still my heart. Speaking of singing… Spock, will you play for me? There's something I'd like Cap'n Jim to hear.'

There was a pause. Then Spock said politely,

'Certainly, if you wish it. I will obtain my harp.'

He left and Sally, with an unusually shy expression on her face, turned to Kirk.

'I don't like goodbyes. But I would like you to know – all of you,' she included McCoy and Uhura in her look, 'that I have been very happy here. You brought me back from the dead and looked after me like a family. I know I must make a place for myself in this time and I know it won't be easy. I need something to hang on to, a base for my thoughts when times are bad. The 'Enterprise' has felt like home to me. Will you let me think of her that way when I am gone?'

Kirk reached over and took both of her hands in his.

'I would be honoured to have you think of her that way, Sally. She and her crew won't forget you either. Will you come back some day?'

Spock had returned during Kirk's reply and stood quietly, waiting for her answer to it. Sally did not look at him but Kirk had the strongest feeling that her words were directed at him when she said,

'I promise that no matter how far away I go… one day I will come back.'

Now why, thought Kirk, does that sound to me like a challenge?

He glanced at the Vulcan but Spock had seated himself and his head was bent over his harp. After a moment, following no signal that Kirk could see, he began to play.

Did they practise this? Kirk thought. When? How does he know what to play? She hasn't told him what she's going to sing. How does he know?

Sally started to sing, gently at first, as if to herself. Her voice _was_ good, sweet and clear and melodic. Uhura picked up the tune and began to hum it gently.

She sang in 'the Gaelic', the ancient, lilting Scots tongue. Kirk never found out exactly what the words meant, but he was sure it was an old folk song, something soft and sweet about home and hearth and family. It evoked long forgotten memories and tugged at the heart.

When her voice tailed into silence, Spock, McCoy and Uhura quietly rose and left, murmuring their goodbyes. Kirk remained seated, Sally kneeling on the floor by his feet.

'Before you go, Cap'n Jim,' she said, 'I have something else to say.' But she remained silent for a long while, until Kirk said matter-of-factly,

'Can I guess? I do know a little about telepaths, after all. Has this got something to do with when we were in link in Sickbay?'

'That's it. You must have noticed that you can still pick me up even though I'm getting better at controlling. I think… when we linked in Sickbay, I think I marked you. I didn't mean to do it, but I can't undo it now.'

'You… marked me?'

'It's a sort of link, Jim. It just means that we have a constant subliminal awareness of each other. I can't read you all the time, I promise, but I would know if you were experiencing any sort of deep emotion, or hurt. Or dead. I think you might with me. I don't know if it will operate over distance but I thought you ought to know before I went. In case it does.'

Kirk gave himself a couple of minutes to get used to this idea. Although it was not coming as a real surprise, his first reaction was panic at having someone else permanently in his brain. No secrets possible. No privacy. His command – how would that be affected? How could he operate, knowing that little could be hidden from Sally?

'It's not _like _that,' Sally said intensely. 'I'm not a spy. You won't even know that I'm there most of the time. What it does mean is that you will always have a friend. Always. If the galaxies should turn against you there will be two people at your side whatever happens. Please trust me. I swear by everything I hold precious that you will have no cause to regret that day's work.'

I am not alone any longer, he thought. What he said was,

'Two people?'

'There's Spock,' Sally replied. 'Before, during and probably after Sally. There will always be Spock.'

'Yes,' said Kirk. Of course.' And then, abruptly, 'If you linked with me, then you must have linked with Spock too.'

'Ah, well,' Sally said evasively, 'Spock's a whole different kettle of fish.'

'But you must have done, Sally!'

'I can't answer that, Jim. It's not that simple.'

It was obvious that she wouldn't say any more even if he pressed her. He rose to leave, holding her hands so that she rose with him. Sally tightened the clasp for a moment, then withdrew her hands.

'Don't come and see me off tomorrow. Let the goodbyes be finished tonight.'

'Are you sure that's the way you want it? Almost everyone…'

'No!' she almost shouted. Then she drew a breath and went on more softly, ' Let me go alone. I hate goodbyes'

'Then I won't say it now.' He held her in his arms for a moment and it was she who moved away from him, kissing his cheek gently as she did so.

'Look after yourself and your lady, Cap'n Jim. Until we meet again.'

'Until then, Sally. Keep in touch.'

He left her standing in the centre of the room and did not look back.

They stayed only 24 hours at Starbase 11, long enough to disembark the survivors and receive their new orders. When the 'Enterprise' set sail for the stars again, it was as if she had left a part of herself behind.

As the months turned into years, they heard from Sally often. She sent long, involved and amusing messages to the crew at large, and their arrival came to be regarded as something of an event. She shared everything with them; her joys and sorrows, her opinions (which were decided), her misadventures (of which there were many) and her successes (of which there were more). They watched her change from slightly awkward adolescent to poised and elegant woman.

She spent two years on Vulcan and shared that with them too, although her workload was heavy and gave her less and less time for private pleasures. As well as her telepathic training she was permitted to take courses at the Vulcan Science Academy – a rare honour for a non-Vulcan, according to Spock – and graduated with the equivalent of a doctorate in physics and chemistry. Chess and cookery, however, remained completely beyond her.

Kirk, McCoy, Scott and Uhura all received private messages from time to time. Kirk did not think she ever sent a message to Spock – at least, none that the Vulcan would ever admit to. Kirk's, at least, were in a more serious vein, telling of the more personal hopes and sorrows. She was involved in a great many relationships with men that seemed to fade as quickly as they had started, leaving Sally remarkably unscathed – in fact, she was bridesmaid at the weddings of at least four former lovers, all of whom had been introduced to their new partners by her. She laughingly told Kirk once that her role in relationships seemed to be that of guiding men into the arms of women better suited to them. Anyway, she said, how could she possibly contemplate anything permanent with a non-telepath?

Kirk heard from several other sources that permanence was emphatically _not_ what Sally was rapidly becoming notorious for.

There was general rejoicing on the day she enrolled in Star Fleet as it seemed to bring her return to them one step closer. She specialised in computer science and did it well, although she collected demerits time and time again for her unconventional and occasionally downright insane behaviour. Her request to join the command programme was rejected out of hand after a temper tantrum involving a fleet admiral and a table full of flying sushi. ('Well, can you blame me, Cap'n Jim? He made advances and looked like a fish.)

Meanwhile, the 'Enterprise' went on her way, encountering adventures wherever she went, some pleasant, some not so pleasant, some downright nasty. If Sally's more amusing messages seemed to follow hard upon this latter kind, then that was surely co-incidence.

Kirk knew better. When his ship had been through a particularly hard time, when he was tired and on edge, a message would invariably come from Sally for him alone. Full of gentle humour and warm friendship, she could lift him out of the darkest moods. He knew she was following them all through the link and doing her part to keep them in spirits.

She was away from them all for five years and they none of them saw her once in all that time.


	4. Chapter 4

The answer to the Betazed question is – I don't know! It was never mentioned in the original series so I have assumed not – but whether they backtracked in Next Gen (and you can imagine how cross I was, they stole my idea!) I never did find out as I haven't watched all the episodes. I did toy with making Deanna Troi Sally's tutor in this version, but wasn't sure if the timelines would fit, so I didn't. Anyway, it wouldn't work to have Lwaxana Troi and Christine Chapel together! They do have a habit of adding things in – Archer, for instance, has a Vulcan on board and Spock was supposed to be the first Vulcan in Star Fleet, so I don't know how that fits – I have never got around to watching 'Enterprise'.

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER FOUR – TAISHUN

It was a day like any other day. Kirk had the early watch and bounded on to the bridge feeling fit and ready for business. Half an hour after he got there, Uhura announced from her station,

'Message coming in from Starbase 11, Captain.'

'On screen, Lieutenant.'

'On screen now, sir.'

It was Doran. After the usual preliminaries, he said,

'Jim, I'd like you to divert to Vulcan to pick up a passenger.'

Kirk said nothing but his eyebrows rose slightly. Doran saw the expression.

'I know you're not a transit shuttle, Jim, but this is a very special passenger. She's going to spend some time on board – as an experiment.'

'An experiment, Admiral?'

'That's right. You'll receive a full briefing once you have her on board.' Doran was smiling. 'Come on, Jim. Haven't you guessed yet who it is?'

Light dawned, and Kirk found he was grinning. Looking round, he saw the faces of his bridge crew start to beam.

'That's right, it's your telepath. Looks like she'll be welcome. Doran out.'

'Welcome,' Sulu said enthusiastically, 'is not the word. Course plotted and laid in, sir.'

Kirk waited for a beat or two but the smile was still in his voice when he said,

'Okay, Mr Sulu. Let's go get her.'

The ship had assumed a very festive air by the time she went into orbit around Vulcan. Sally's waiting cabin held a pile of presents and the huge conference hall had been transformed by Uhura, who seemed determined to top every party ever held there, into a sparkling cave.

Once in orbit, Vulcan Space Central provided them with beam-down co-ordinates. Kirk was a little surprised, but assumed Sally had some kind of welcome planned. He took Spock with him.

They arrived in a large walled garden facing a graceful white stone house. Coming towards them, dressed in traditional Vulcan garb, was Sarek.

'She didn't say she was staying with your parents,' Kirk said to Spock.

'Only for the past three weeks, Captain,' said Sarek, who was close enough to hear this. 'You are welcome. Please enter, my wife has some refreshments for you.'

'Thank you, Ambassador,' Kirk said. 'And is Sally…?'

'In her room – I think the expression is 'doing her face', do I have that correct? She is most eager to see you, but I understand that this meeting requires a little preparation first.'

They followed him into a spacious, elegant room that ran the entire length of the house. One wall was completely lined with books and Vulcan artefacts, the other three were open to the garden. It was sparsely furnished and very cool, which was welcome, as even minutes under Vulcan's sun had been enough to make Kirk extremely uncomfortable – unlike Spock, who was still looking as cool as the proverbial cucumber. Amanda Sarek rose from a couch to greet them, a wider smile on her face than Kirk thought she would normally permit herself.

'Spock. You're looking well.'

'You also, mother.' They crossed fingers, Vulcan fashion, and Amanda moved on to greet Kirk.

'It's a pleasure to see you again, madame,' Kirk said, bowing to her. 'I hear you've been taking care of our Sally.'

'A very lovely girl,' Amanda said, passing round tall glasses of a cool, slightly peppery liquid. Her mouth twitched every so slightly as she added, 'However, we did have a few experiences that I suspect made Sarek profoundly grateful that we had a son, and not a daughter.'

'What,' said Kirk, with foreboding, 'did she get up to?'

'Oh, she behaved beautifully,' Amanda replied. 'She just had a rather unfortunate effect on the male population.'

'The non-Vulcan males, of course,' Sarek added.

'Of course,' Kirk said, straight-faced. 'What… er… kind of effect?'

'Well, there was the young man Sarek found trying to climb in through a first floor window in the middle of the night…' Amanda said.

'Not to mention the one who serenaded her four evenings in a row at the gate…badly, I might add…' from Sarek.

'And the professor who sent her flowers every day for two weeks…'

'And, of course, the student I discovered hiding under her bed…'

'And then the twenty-six (I counted) who came to see Sarek to ask to pay their addresses in form,' Amanda finished.

Spock was looking quite scandalised.

'I had no idea she would be such a troublesome guest,' he said.

'Sally can't be blamed for their behaviour,' Amanda pointed out. 'Anyway, I was glad to have her. Poor child, no family or relations. You were quite right to suggest she stayed here.'

_Spock _suggested? Kirk thought. _Spock _did?

'As to blaming her,' Spock said austerely, 'she may not be responsible for their behaviour but I suspect Miss Kilsyth is very well pleased with herself all the same.'

-Actually the guy under the bed was sort of invited, but might be best not to mention that-

There she was, back in his head and Kirk didn't find it odd for a minute.

-Minx. Where are you?-

-Look up-

Kirk did, and saw her at the top of the stairs.

His first thought was that the years had changed her out of all recognition. Gone was the awkward grace of the adolescent and in its place had come a poised elegance, a fluidity of movement that spoke of confidence and composure. She had put on weight, and it suited her; curves that had previously been understated were now full and inviting. Her hair was caught up in neat braids around her head but nothing could dim its red-gold blaze, nor could the severity detract from the beauty the years seemed only to have added to.

She wore the blue of the science division. The insignia was that of the 'Enterprise'.

'Surprise!' said Sally, looking only at Kirk. He stood up, feeling the grin spread across his face. Sally, whose expression had been as controlled as any Vulcan's, gave a shriek of pure glee and tumbled down the staircase into his arms. Sarek and Spock both looked a little pained at this complete lack of decorum, but Kirk was past caring. He returned her embrace with enthusiasm and said,

'I like that new style, it suits you.'

'Dress or hair?' Sally enquired, drawing him back to the sofa and Amanda. 'Any food left?'

'I kept some for you,' Amanda replied with a smile, holding out a heaped plate.

'Spock's here too,' Kirk said, as she hadn't even looked in the Vulcan's direction. Sally contemplated Spock for a moment and Kirk knew she had already spoken a greeting in that quiet instant.

'Hi there, Spock,' was what she said out loud. 'Good to see you.'

Spock inclined his head and said politely,

'May I congratulate you on your achievements? I hope you will find the 'Enterprise' a suitable testing ground for what you have learned…' He broke off suddenly and bent a thoroughly disapproving look upon her. 'Miss Kilsyth, may I ask if you have _shortened _that uniform?'

Sally, mouth full, nodded a little guiltily.

'I would not have thought it would be possible to make it any shorter,' Sarek commented. Both Vulcans studied the offending limbs as if they were some particularly obscure logistical problem.

'Star Fleet regulations…' Spock began, in full pedant mode.

'Can be discussed later,' Kirk broke in hastily, since Sally was showing clear signs of preparing to do battle over her right to expose as much flesh as physically possible. He was beginning to realise that Spock and Sally working together (Sally, if assigned to the Science Division, would be under Spock's command and not his) was likely to produce, if not fireworks, then at the minimum some few situations that might require his intervention. 'I'd rather know for sure that she isn't likely to be setting alarms off every time you two have a… dispute.'

-Oh, control, is it? Watch this then-

Sally snapped her fingers and every piece of furniture in the room except the chairs they were actually using lifted itself two inches off the floor and hung there without a wobble or tremor. Nothing fell off, nothing was broken. Then, just as quickly and uneventfully, everything returned to its proper place. Sarek and Amanda, obviously inured to having their furniture floating about unsupported, looked at her tolerantly.

-Two inches? Three feet? Just make your request, Cap'n Jim-

'Very impressive,' Kirk agreed. 'And when you lose your temper?'

'Don't you mean if?'

Kirk just looked at her. Then he said,

'Hair, clothes and food in the first two minutes. You have not changed that much. Answer the question, please.'

'Absolute and total blocking control,' Sally confirmed, laughing at him, 'the Vulcans are nothing if not thorough.'

'I suspect McCoy is going to want to do a full set of comparative tests when we get back on board – speaking of which, I don't want to rush you but there's a whole pile of people up there waiting to see you.'

'I'm all packed, and Scotty beamed my things up before I came down.' She looked from Sarek to Amanda, her lovely face suddenly pensive; Sally, who didn't like goodbyes. 'Thank you both for your hospitality and your kindness. I felt very at home here.'

Amanda rose and embraced her warmly. Kirk realised that there was already a deep affection between the two of them, and this was confirmed when Amanda said to Spock,

'Don't be too hard on her, Spock. If I'd ever had legs like that, I'd have wanted to show them off too.' Sally started to giggle at the duplicate expressions of disbelief on her husband and son's faces. Kirk then wondered why it was that Sarek, the full Vulcan, sometimes seemed more human than Spock as he said,

'We will hope to see you again, Sally. Your stay with us has been most… enlightening.'

She smiled at him and Kirk thought that some sort of wordless communication passed between them.

'Until we next meet,' said Sarek, 'live long and prosper, Sally Kilsyth.'

Kirk had planned to spend a few quiet minutes with Sally before going on with the day's duties while McCoy, waiting for them in the transporter room, had it in mind to run her through the full gamut of all the telekinetic tests he could devise. Sally, of course, had something else in mind.

The moment materialisation was complete, she leapt off the platform, hugged McCoy and Scott enthusiastically, screamed 'I'm back!' into the ship-wide audio Uhura had lined up for her and vanished at a rate of knots down the corridor.

Kirk looked at Spock, sighed, and said,

'Well, I guess that's the last we'll see of Sally for a while. She hasn't changed much, has she, gentlemen?'

'That she has not, Captain,' Scott said happily. 'It fair does ma heart good to see her bonny face again. Is she assigned here?'

'Temporarily, at least, Scotty. Well, I suppose I'd better get back to the bridge. Coming, Spock? McCoy?'

'No,' said McCoy. 'I'm going to get down to a little light reading.'

'Oh? Anything you can recommend?'

'Sally's Star Fleet report,' McCoy responded. 'It ought to be very entertaining.'

'Well, that's true,' Kirk said to Spock as McCoy made his way down the corridor away from them. 'I suppose I'd better cast an eye over it myself.'

'I would advise it, Captain. It might give you an insight as to why she has, in fact, been assigned to the 'Enterprise'.'

'Would you care to elaborate on that somewhat cryptic statement, Mr Spock?'

'Certainly, sir. In my opinion, Miss Kilsyth is emphatically not suitable crew material and I believe Star Fleet recognises this all too clearly. At the same time, she is intelligent and uniquely powerful, and could be a valuable asset, all other thing being equal.'

'And the 'other things' would be…?'

'Her independence. Her lack of tolerance for discipline. Her total disregard of conventionalities. Her…'

'Ok, ok,' Kirk held up a hand to stem the flow, since Spock was showing every indication of being able to enumerate Sally's defects indefinitely, 'point made. And given the fact that the 'Enterprise' is renowned for having independents who manage to pull together, you think she's been dropped into our lap to sort out.'

'I believe the expression is 'lick her into shape', Captain,' Spock replied, without a trace of a smile.

Which was, essentially, exactly what Doran was to say a little time later.

'In fact, she's a complete pain in the ass,' Doran's fifteen minute diatribe was finally drawing to a close. 'Her class marks were some of the highest I've ever seen but the wretched woman ended up with one – just one – demerit less than the expel limit. Nothing made any impression on her. She went her own sweet way regardless and bugger me if everyone didn't just adore her all the same!'

'So why, exactly, has she been sent back to us?' Kirk asked, taking advantage of Doran's pause for breath.

'Because you're her last chance,' Doran said bluntly. 'Jim, she's good. In fact, she's damn good and I don't want to lose her. She's intelligent, she picks things up fast, she has no problem making decisions and her power makes her unique. If she would just learn to accept a normal amount of discipline, I'd say she was officer material.'

'Yes. I've seen her pass marks and I agree. So I've got to turn our Sally into a normal human being, is that right?'

'Oh, I don't ask the impossible,' Doran said, smiling for the first time in the interview. 'She'll never be what one could call 'normal'. But she does at least seem to have some amount of respect for you which she hasn't yet demonstrated for anyone else. Test her out. Get her to take orders. Turn her into a team player and I'll be happy.'

'Is that all?' Kirk muttered to himself once the connection had been broken. 'And he claims he's not asking the impossible…'

Kirk finally ran Sally to earth in the cabin she had been allocated. Having made sure her roommate was on duty, he went down there. As he approached, the door swept open for him of its own accord.

'She's definitely back,' he thought, and went in.

'Hi, Jim,' said Sally, emerging from the sleeping area.

'Good God, Sally, get dressed,' Kirk said, instantly averting his eyes.

'I _am _dressed,' she replied indignantly. 'This is my outfit for the party tonight. It's a present from Uhura.'

'And here I thought Uhura had sense,' Kirk said bitterly. 'You'll get yourself molested before you've taken two steps from the door.'

'That's the whole idea,' she replied, looking him right in the eye.

'Not by me, though,' Kirk retorted. 'I'm just here for coffee and a chat.'

'Foiled again, dammit,' she sighed as the food selector whirred softly into action by itself. 'Sit down and make yourself at home, Cap'n Jim. Or is this the formal 'welcome to the crew' speech?'

Kirk sat and said with resignation,

'How much do you know?'

'Nothing you haven't told me, I haven't listened in,' she said indignantly. 'But I do know pretty much what Doran is likely to have said about me.' She grinned wickedly at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

'Does Doran know?'

'What, about the link. Hell, _no,_' she said, with emphasis. 'You don't think he'd have sent me back here if he had, do you?'

'Right at this minute, I wouldn't put anything past him,' Kirk said grimly. 'What, exactly, is this link going to mean to us?'

-Well, it'll sure beat the hell out of communicators-

-Can't you do this with everyone?-

-Nope, just you. Isn't it fun? We can transmit direct to each other-

Her eyes were alight with mischief and Kirk, though he had his doubts about a link being 'fun', found himself grinning back at her.

Sally snapped her fingers and a hairbrush and some glittering pins began to float towards her. She began to put her hair up with quick, practised movements.

'I don't need to do the snapping, of course,' she said, through a mouthful of pins, 'but it looks impressive.'

'Sally, can we be serious for just a minute?'

'Yes, of course we can.' Gravity descended on her like a mask and the lovely violet eyes looked directly into his. 'I am a member of your crew and I'll do exactly what you tell me. You needn't worry.'

'I may not always be your captain, Sally.'

'Well, then, I won't be your problem, will I?'

'I don't want you to be a problem, period. I want you to be one of the best crew members in the fleet whoever you're answering to. That, as if you didn't know it, is why you've been assigned here.'

'Okay, I will be,' Sally said immediately.

Kirk eyed her suspiciously but her face was perfectly serious. He had never seen anyone who looked less like a model ensign and he found it hard to imagine that she ever could be. Yet here she was, claiming that he had effected in ten minutes what educators in Star Fleet had not been able to instil in two years.

'It's really quite simple, Jim.' Sally completed her chignon with an amazingly complicated twist of her hand. 'I'll do it because if I don't, it will reflect on you. And I don't want that to happen. God forbid I should spoil a perfect record.'

'Sally, did you… did you _plan _this?' She didn't answer and he went on with dawning realisation, 'You _did_ plan it. Right down to the number of demerits. You wanted to be sent back here and you knew you couldn't make it any other way.'

There was a moment's silence. Sally did not look at him.

'Well?' Kirk prompted. 'I'm right, aren't I?'

'Of course you are.' She raised her eyes. She had shadowed them with lilac and silver and the high cheekbones gleamed with golden lights.

'And you claim not to be able to play chess,' Kirk said dryly. 'Or is poker your game?'

Sally's eyes, still directed at him, seemed to be gazing at some distant future.

'I had to be sure. I have a debt to repay, you see. And I had to be sure I would be in a position to repay it.'

Kirk had no idea what she was talking about but decided not to ask questions for the moment. He reached out a hand to her.

'Whatever the reason, it's good to have you back,' he said.

'Thank you, Captain,' said Sally.

When Kirk finally made it to the party, it was in full swing. He caught sight of Sally, surrounded as usual by a crowd of young men, the flame gems that had been his welcome gift to her glittering in her ears. Everybody was there. Even Spock was there. Kirk made his way over to him through the crush of bodies.

'Enjoying the party, Mr Spock?' he said, over the din.

'I find the spectacle… interesting,' Spock replied. 'Humans relaxing never cease to amaze me.'

'To each his own, I suppose,' Kirk said, smiling.

Sally came skipping up to them. The dim lighting somewhat concealed the indecency of her costume but Spock was keeping his gaze strictly front and centre all the same.

'Evening, Spock. Not dancing?'

'I do not dance, Miss Kilsyth.'

'Oh?' She eyed him speculatively. 'Lack of interest or lack of talent?' she enquired.

Spock cast a disparaging eye over the cavorting mass on the dance floor.

'Do these antics require talent?' he asked. 'An impartial observer might deduce that the only prerequisite was a complete lack of co-ordination.'

Sally laughed. Her carefully arranged hair was beginning to tumble down into its usual curling mass and the sparkle in her eyes told Kirk that she had consumed a glass or two of something fairly alcoholic.

'I've asked them to play a waltz, will you try it? Who knows, you might even enjoy it.' She glanced up at him, head tilted to one side. She looked like a robin waiting for crumbs – which was all, judging by Spock's affronted expression, she was likely to get in this case.

'I find that remark insulting,' Spock told her, and stalked away. Sally stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.

'It may possibly be my imagination,' Kirk said, 'but I get the definite impression that my First Officer is not altogether delighted to have you back, Sally.'

'Hmm, well, I think Spock disapproves of me,' she said, primming up her mouth.

'But he suggested that you stay with his parents?'

'Yes, wasn't that nice of him?' she said blithely, which didn't really answer the question, he noticed.

'Is there something going on between the two of you?'

'Going on? With _Spock?_'

'I didn't mean romantically,' he said, trying not to laugh. 'You know I didn't.'

'Nothing that you need to know about, Cap'n Jim,' she replied, which, again, didn't really answer the question.

'You'll have to work together, Sally.'

'We will, and I will be a pattern card of respectability and decorum – on duty, at least. Off duty, I make no promises. Shall we dance?'

The waltz she had offered to dance with Spock had started, for which Kirk was grateful. He had a certain amount of sympathy with his First Officer's view of current dance trends.

They danced in silence, Sally's cheek resting lightly on Kirk's shoulder. Her hair smelled of her heady, spicy scent and it brought back memories of the last time they had danced together. Five years ago? It might have been yesterday. He had slipped back into his easy friendship with her as if there had been no time lapse at all. He supposed that it must be the effect of the link that he did not feel that the years apart counted for nothing. Now she was back, and a member of his crew. A junior member, it was true, but one whose undoubted talents would make her useful in any number of circumstances and Kirk intended to use those talents to the full.

And what of Spock's reaction to her re-entry into their lives? It had not been enthusiastic but Kirk found it hard to believe that the Vulcan still bore Sally a grudge for what had happened all those years ago. Was it something closer to home than that? It Spock and Sally were linked too…

Sally's head came up sharply from his shoulder.

-They want you on the bridge-

The blue light indicating 'Captain's presence required' began to flash above the door. Kirk nodded an apology to Sally, handed her over to one of the assorted admirers hovering in the vicinity, and shouldered his way through the crowd to the corridor where he could use the intercom in peace.

'Kirk here. What's up?'

'We have just received a distress signal from another vessel, sir,' Spock's calm voice said.

'Identification?' Kirk snapped.

There was a short silence. Then Spock, with an odd inflexion in his voice, said,

'It is the 'Perihelion', sir.'

'Taishun's ship?' Kirk said incredulously.

'Yes, sir. There is no doubt about it. The Renegade is calling for help.'

'On my way,' Kirk said. He began to stride swiftly towards the nearest elevator.

If Taishun the Renegade was in need of help then things could get very serious, very quickly.

Taishun.

In the vastness of space, few men are heroes outside their own planetary systems. There were perhaps half a dozen men and women whose names were universally known. Surak and T'Pau, Kirk and Spock.

And Taishun. His was a name to conjure with. A whole generation of children had grown up with a desire to emulate him, cadets dreamed of serving under him. The fact that Taishun never carried a crew made the dream even more appealing.

Born in the Romulus/Remus system of a Romulan mother, no-one had ever found out who his father was and if Taishun knew the truth he never told it.

In a culture that prized physical ability above all else, Taishun was a warrior beyond compare. He had gained captaincy of a Bird of Prey while his contemporaries were still struggling through the ranks and proceeded to become the most feared of all the Romulan commanders. Fanatically loyal and a brilliant tactician, every mission was carried out with speed, savagery and a total lack of compassion for his adversaries. Honour after honour was heaped upon him. He was held up as a shining model for all young Romulans.

And then, one day, the fleet he commanded was ordered to destroy a Federation outpost. It was not a military installation. It was a research station devoted to the study of science and languages, populated by two hundred men with their wives and families.

For the first time in his life, Taishun found himself questioning a direct order. He was told to proceed with the operation, and refused point-blank. His second in command was ordered to complete the mission and return the traitor Taishun to Romulus for summary execution.

Taishun escaped in a life-craft after so disabling the mother ship that she blew into atoms as the engines were engaged, taking the rest of the fleet with her.

The first the Federation knew of his defection was when he arrived at Starbase 13 in the 'Perihelion', the re-named life-craft he had escaped in. He told no-one where he had been in the months between his escape and his arrival in Federation territory, but those months had been spent working on the 'Perihelion'. She was transformed out of all recognition into a beauty of a fighter, clean lined and sleek, designed for speed and sacrificing almost every comfort in favour of weapon efficiency.

Taishun offered his independent services to the Federation.

They could not accept officially; mercenaries, no matter how pure their motives, were not looked upon kindly by Star Fleet. It was tacitly understood that he acted under their orders and with their approval but complaints from both Romulans and Klingons were always met with a blanket condemnation of Taishun's activities.

And complaints there were. Taishun patrolled Federation borders like a hunting hawk, shooting enemy ships out of the stars with the same deadly accuracy he had once used against Federation ships. In was in the main due to him that the borders had been so peaceful for the last few years.

He had no friends, no crew. In a life that gave daily challenge to fate, he could not afford commitment. He had never asked for aid from any man.

Until today.

When Kirk entered the bridge, his first glance was for the viewing screen. The 'Perihelion' was there, still some distance away but at full magnification. At least one of the reasons for her distress call was immediately apparent. She was badly damaged, one side of her burnt and pitted, her rear engines mangled out of all recognition.

'She's seen action,' Kirk said, taking the command chair from Spock, 'and recently. Other ships in the area, Mr Spock?'

'None, sir. Sensors are running at full scan.'

'Have we raised Taishun yet?' Kirk asked Uhura's relief.

'No, sir. Hailing on all frequencies, but there is no response.'

'Sensors reveal one life form aboard, Captain.' Spock was back at the science station, scanning the readouts swiftly. 'Romulan. Very faint, however. Taishun would appear to be injured.'

'Give Scott the co-ordinates.' Kirk said, making an instant decision. 'We'll beam him aboard.' He sensed, rather than saw, a movement of protest from Spock and swung round. 'You have an objection, Mr Spock?'

'I am constrained to point out,' Spock said, carefully, deliberately, 'that Taishun has never been given direct help from a Star Fleet vessel before. To go to his aid now will be to acknowledge that he has Federation backing for his actions. Should the Romulans discover we have given him assistance, they will undoubtedly consider it an act of aggression against them.'

Kirk nodded thoughtfully. Although he sometimes, even now, found Spock's apparent cold-bloodedness a little chilling, he knew the objection was not being made through any lack of compassion. On the contrary, it was usually an over-riding concern for the safety of the 'Enterprise' and her crew that prompted Spock to express himself in the most non-human terms. Besides, the comment itself was a valid one.

'Point taken, Mr Spock. I don't particularly want to mix it with the Romulans either, but we can't leave him out there to die. Give Scott the co-ordinates and Kelly,' this to Uhura's relief, 'page McCoy and get him to the transporter room. Yellow alert. Sulu, I want a constant 360 degree scan. If you come up with even the smell of a Romulan, notify me at once and go to red alert.'

There was a chorus of 'aye,aye, sirs'. Kirk said,

'Sulu, take the conn. C'mon Spock. Let's go meet the Renegade.'

TO BE CONTINUED….

The timescale question is – not something you have to worry about when not writing for publication. I knew I'd get myself into trouble when showing this to people with more knowledge than me. However, when I originally wrote this the films had not even been thought of (and I never liked them anyway – The Voyage Home was the only one where they behaved in a way I thought they should). So I have always assumed that this starts round about the beginning of their mission and ends round about the time the mission does (as you will see if you get to the last chapter). Or think alternate universe, like Mirror, Mirror.

CHAPTER FOUR – TAISHUN (continued)

McCoy was already in the transporter room, muttering to Scott as Kirk and Spock entered,

'Best damn party we've had in years and whaddya know? Medical alert. Betcha it's not something I can patch up with a plaster and two aspirin either. Hi, Jim. What's up?'

'We're about to beam you a patient aboard, Bones,' Kirk said. 'Ready, Mr Scott?'

'Aye, sir, energising now.'

A man's body began to materialise on the platform. Eventually the sparks coalesced into the slumped figure of a Romulan male. He was bleeding heavily from a wound in his chest and he was obviously in pain but he was conscious and his eyes were alert.

McCoy said 'Hell!' through his teeth at what the first medicorder readings showed him.

'Punctured lung,' he shot over his shoulder to Kirk, 'and he's lost a lost of blood, too. Get me a medical team down here on the double!'

Spock went over to the intercom. Over McCoy's head, the Romulan's eyes met Kirk's.

'I thank you… for your aid. You are… Kirk?'

'James T Kirk, captain of the 'Enterprise',' Kirk confirmed. 'And you are Commander Taishun?'

A wry smile briefly lifted the compressed lips.

'No title. I am… the Renegade.'

'Don't talk,' McCoy said sharply. 'My job's going to be difficult enough as it is.'

The med team arrived with an anti-grav stretcher. In next to no time, it seemed to Kirk, Taishun was lifted on to it and hooked up to a plasma unit.

'Okay, that's it.' McCoy said. 'You can take him to surgery now. Spock, don't go too far. I've only got a limited stock of Vulcan blood on board, no Romulan, and I may need you for an emergency transfusion. Jim, if you want to question my patient, you'll have to wait. He has an urgent appointment.'

'Will he live, Bones?'

'I'm a doctor, not a fortune-teller!' McCoy snapped. Then he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and said, 'Sorry, Jim. Yes, I think so. I'll call you when I'm through.'

He followed the stretcher out. Kirk said to Spock,

'You'd better go to Sickbay too, in case McCoy does need that transfusion. I'll get back to the bridge and…'

The door swept open and Sally came in. She had dragged her brocade robe hastily over her party outfit and her hair had completely fallen out of its chignon, hanging in burnished curls to her waist.

'Why are you here, Sally?' Kirk asked. 'I didn't request…'

'I know Taishun,' she interrupted. 'I need to be with him. May I go to Sickbay?'

Kirk stared at her. Sally being Sally, 'know' was undoubtedly being used in, among other things, the strictest biblical sense of the word – yet it was a matter of record that Taishun had never been involved with any woman.

'Do you, indeed? When did this happen?'

'My final year at Star Fleet. He came to give a lecture. I don't tell you everything,' she added, with a somewhat strained glimmer of humour.

'Obviously not,' Kirk said dryly. 'Permission granted. Off you go. You, too, Spock.'

Kirk glanced at the Vulcan as he spoke and was instantly transfixed. Spock stared back with his most unreadable expression.

'Excuse me, Captain,' he murmured and left, Sally beside him.

Kirk made his way slowly back to the bridge, wondering where this latest revelation, instinctively guessed, fitted into the puzzle that was Spock's relationship with Sally.

Because Spock had known about Sally and Taishun. Without a shadow of a doubt, he had known.

They sat together in Sickbay, one either side of McCoy's desk. Sally was drinking coffee liberally laced with McCoy's brandy. It was the first time they had been alone together since Sally's return and the silence was tense.

Spock had known she would come back, had known it even before she had stated her intention, almost challenging him, in her cabin on that last night. He knew why, too, and still it did not make her presence any easier to accept. Although she was trained, although she could fully control her power and her mind, still he must always be aware of her. At this moment, with her thoughts occupied by worry and memories, those controls were slipping and he could sense her emotions clearly.

Through all the years when Kirk had thought Sally was following their adventures in her link with him, it had been Spock with whom she had been in contact. Their link, like a gossamer thread, had stretched and become more subtle over distance but it had never broken. Sally had finally come to accept this as a fact of nature and even become accustomed to it in the end. Spock could not. Those few times when he had caught himself slipping into the link with the ease and familiarity of welcoming an old friend had shocked him immeasurably and each time he strengthened his resistance to her; but such blocks were difficult to maintain and useless, too, if she were determined to reach him.

He could never be quite at ease in her physical presence. At best, there was between them now a kind of armed neutrality, not enemies, but not friends. Yet they knew each other better than any other person in the galaxy could know either of them, a bedrock and total understanding of each others faults and character. As distasteful as this was to Spock, he had come to realise that she would never betray this knowledge of him, even to Kirk – that there was honour and decency in her beneath the merry façade she presented.

He could not like her; but he had learned to trust her.

'It's taking too long, it's not going well… I can't reach his mind. If he dies…' There was no need for her to say the words out loud, but the tension in her demanded a verbal expression.

'You may rest assured that Dr McCoy will do his best to avoid that outcome.'

'McCoy is the best, but, oh, Spock, if he dies…'

Spock did not know what to say to comfort her. He had been reluctantly, and fortunately in the most imprecise detail, aware of her many amorous adventures but she had treated them all in a light-hearted manner until her meeting with Taishun. It had been her grief at the termination of that relationship which had prompted his suggestion, made almost against his will, that, having no family of her own, she spend time with Sarek and Amanda at the end of her Star Fleet training. He had tried to find a logical explanation for his behaviour and was not entirely sure that he had been able to do so to his own satisfaction, let alone Amanda's; she had afforded his request an interest it categorically did not merit.

The door of the operating theatre swept open and McCoy appeared, his gloves and gown covered in green blood. He did not look at Sally, did not even seem to be aware that she was there.

'Spock. I need you. Get in here.'

Spock stood up and said,

'Is my blood compatible? There are human elements…'

'It's green,' McCoy said curtly, 'and right now that's the best I can come up with. He'll die without it, that's for sure.'

Spock nodded and walked past him into the theatre. The door slid shut again and Sally was alone with her memories.

She had gone to the lecture out of curiosity, on a quiet afternoon when nothing better seemed to suggest itself. Slipping in late, she had been forced into a front row seat as Taishun strode out to the podium, vaguely contemptuous of these raw recruits and the task he had been asked to do.

For all of her life Sally was to remember the instant when their eyes met and everything was said in one flash of involuntary telepathic form, for Romulans too have esper gifts.

In this, her first affair with another telepath, she had discovered the sensual and erotic pleasures of a sharing of minds, not just of bodies. The depth and power of her relationship with Taishun had made her realise how it was that she had been able to let so many former lovers go so lightly and with such little regret

He had called her T'Aramu, explaining the Vulcan/Romulan legend of The Firewoman, She Who Flies on the Winds, the name by which Sally would one day be known throughout the galaxies.

Three months they had together until he left her, sailing back into his life of hazard. He would not contemplate taking her with him, despite all her pleading that she would share that danger with him.

A little time was all that he had ever offered her and she, too late, had known that with him, a little would not be enough.

All of her energy, all of her thought, all of her power was now poured in through her channel to him, coming to rest in one simple thought. Live.

So lost was she in concentration that she did not hear the door open nor realise McCoy's presence until he put his hand on her shoulder.

'Sally? He's out of danger. He wants to see you.'

Two hours later, the atmosphere had relaxed considerably. Sally – a happy, glowing, Sally – sat at Taishun's beside, one hand on his arm as if to make sure he did not slip away from her again.

No need for words between them.

This was Kirk's first proper meeting with the Renegade and he found the experience unsettling. The man's resemblance to Spock was almost startling and thus each time he smiled, each time his eyes rested lovingly on Sally, Kirk was jolted by a faint sensation of shock.

No, not like Spock, he eventually decided. Maybe what Spock might have been or might become in different circumstances. Taishun's eyes were a deep shade of cobalt blue, their expression less guarded than Spock's and more humourous. The cast of his finely chiselled face was less sombre, the lean and muscled body more relaxed, the voice warmer. And yet there was the same hallmark of restrained power, of authority, of strength.

An impressive man; warrior first, explorer second.

'They sent a fleet after me,' Taishun explained matter-of-factly to Kirk. 'I outran them, of course, and three of their ships paid dearly for the chase.' There was a sudden ferocity on his face, amplified by the fine scar that ran across his face from eyebrow to lip. 'I was running safe when this happened,' he gestured at the dressing on his chest. 'The rear engines were damaged and thrusting irregularly. I was carrying out repairs when she lurched and I fell on to the wiring tubes. A stupid accident.'

'Did you know we were in the area?' Kirk asked.

'My sensors picked you up. I took a chance on your being a Federation ship. Romulan ships don't tend to sail alone this far from the border.'

'Lucky for you,' McCoy said, appearing with a hypo.

'Lucky indeed, to find a surgeon of such skill,' Taishun commented as the hypo hissed against his arms.

'What are your plans now?' Kirk said.

'His immediate plans,' McCoy said instantly, 'include at least two days in that bed.' Sally brightened visibly. '_Alone,_' McCoy added, casting a dark look at her.

'I do not intend to put your ship at more risk than I must,' Taishun told Kirk. 'To lead a Romulan fleet to you would be poor repayment for your hospitality. I'll be gone as soon as your doctor certifies me fit – sooner, probably.'

Kirk nodded. It was the same decision he would have made himself.

Unfortunately, it was academic.

The red alert klaxons started screaming.

Over the din, Spock's voice said,

'Captain Kirk, please report to the bridge. We are in need of a command decision.'

Kirk slammed a hand against the intercom button.

'Situation?' he snapped, although he knew.

'A Romulan fleet has just appeared out of subspace,' Spock replied. 'They have us surrounded and are demanding the immediate surrender of Taishun the Renegade.'

'Oh, God,' said Sally, through bloodless lips, 'oh, God…'

But she was talking to empty space. Kirk was already on his way to the bridge at a dead run.

'Sir,' Uhura said, the instant Kirk stepped out of the elevator, ''the Romulan commander is hailing us.'

'Yes, I rather thought he might be,' Kirk said, taking the command chair from Spock. 'Put him on, Uhura.'

The view of five Romulan Bird of Preys dissolved from the screen, to be replaced by the Vulcanoid features of the fleet's commander. He wasted no time on civilities.

'This is S'Tarn, acting on orders from the Romulan High Command,' he said. 'Kirk, you have the Renegade aboard your ship.'

'And if we do?' Kirk responded. 'Your own presence in Federation space needs a little explanation, I think.'

'Do not play games with me,' S'Tarn said furiously. 'We have no interest in attacking Federation vessels without provocation. We are in legitimate pursuit of a traitor to the Romulan race, and you have given him aid. If you do not surrender him within one hour, we will blow your ship out of the sky.'

'That would be an act of war, Commander.'

I doubt it,' S'Tarn retorted. 'Your own Star Fleet Command denies all knowledge of the Renegade's actions. If you refuse to surrender him, you admit that he acts with your approval. And he _has_ committed acts of war, against the Romulans. You have one hour, Kirk. And do not try to run. Any such attempt will result in your instant destruction.'

The screen blanked out. There was a moment of utter silence on the bridge.

'Captain,' Uhura said eventually, 'they mean it.'

'Yes,' said Kirk. 'I know they do.'

'Do you mean to tell me,' McCoy said furiously, 'that I spent over three hours saving that man's life just so you could hand him over to those blood-thirsty maniacs?'

'No,' Kirk said, through thinned lips. 'I'm telling you that's what _they_ want you to do. I'm looking for suggestions on how to avoid it.'

They were in Sickbay. Kirk had called an emergency officers' meeting there since Taishun, who was directly involved in any decision they might make, was still unfit to be moved. Sally, uninvited, was there too and Kirk had let her remain, deciding he didn't have the time to waste on what would undoubtedly have been a losing battle anyway.

'Scott, can we outrun them?'

'We could outrun one,' Scott said dubiously, 'maybe even two. But five…! That's a tall order, Captain. I wouldna like to try it.'

'The only logical solution is to surrender Commander Taishun,' Spock said, entering the fray on a typical note.

'We're not talking logic, Spock,' McCoy snarled, 'we're talking about a man's life!'

'Precisely my point, doctor.'

'Well, if I sounded like I was agreeing with you, I sure as hell didn't mean to!'

'No doubt,' Spock said evenly. 'Captain, if we force the Romulans to give battle we run the chance of losing not only Commander Taishun but the entire crew as well. I calculate the odds of surviving such an engagement at…'

'Don't!' said Sally, in a voice husky with emotion. Taishun's hand came down quietly and firmly on her arm.

'Let him speak,' said the Renegade. 'He is right.'

The eyes of the Vulcan and the Romulan met. For that instant, descendents of the same warrior race, they were united by their common heritage; aliens in a human world.

'You can't mean that,' McCoy said incredulously to Taishun. 'He's talking about giving you up. Without a fight.'

'What kind of fight can you put up that would defeat five Birds of Prey?' Taishun asked.

Sally had not moved from his side. Kirk, Scott and McCoy were standing at the foot of the bed, half-turned from Taishun and with their backs to her, so they did not see what she was doing.

But Spock saw.

He saw the hypo lift itself gently from McCoy's cabinet and he saw the dials reset themselves. He saw the long look of farewell that passed between Sally and Taishun and he saw the naked grief on Sally's face.

-Don't interfere, Spock. Let him die the way he wants to die-

He watched the hypo move across the room and position itself against Taishun's arm.

'Scott, get the engines primed,' Kirk was saying, in the tone of one who has made his decision. 'We'll make a run for it. I'm betting they don't have anyone who can manoeuvre a ship like Sulu can. Phaser crews to fire on my command only…'

They all heard the hiss of the hypo. McCoy whirled round and grabbed it.

'Sally,' Kirk said, in a voice that was deadly in its control, 'what have you done?'

Sally did not reply. Her face was quite white, but composed; only the eyes showed any hint of emotion.

'She's pumped him full of argonine,' McCoy said. His hands were shaking. 'There's no antidote, Jim. None at all.'

'At my command, doctor,' Taishun said, looking at Kirk. He was smiling. 'I cannot allow you to risk the lives of your people for me. I knew you would not hand me over alive. I regret… not knowing you better.'

'McCoy!' Kirk said savagely. 'Do something!'

'No!' Taishun exclaimed. 'I am a Romulan. Allow me the dignity of choosing the manner of my own death.'

His life readings were already failing on the monitor above him. Taishun looked only at Kirk.

'You must understand, Captain. I have lived side by side with death for so long that it no longer matters to me when it comes, or how. I cannot ask it of your people to share that death with me. One life – for four hundred. You would do the same.'

Kirk's throat was too restricted for reply. He nodded once. It was an effort.

Taishun smiled again. There was relief – and sadness – in it.

'I bid you farewell, Captain. It has been an honour to know you.'

'Sir,' Kirk said formally, with what voice he could muster, 'the honour has been mine.'

'One favour…'

'Name it.'

'I would speak to T'Aramu alone.'

Kirk began to usher his officers out of the room.

-T'Aramu, there has been no other woman but you-

-We only had a little time after all-

-Long enough-

'Spock,' Taishun said aloud, 'a word, if you please.'

Spock came back into the room. Sally looked uncertainly at Taishun.

'What are you doing, Taishun?'

He was growing steadily paler but he pulled himself into an upright position on the bed and faced Spock squarely.

-One last task. It is an old custom. Humour me in this-

Sally cast a doubtful glance at him, but was silent.

'Vulcan,' Taishun said, with surprising strength, 'we have shared our blood. By your customs and mine, we are brothers. Is it so?'

'It is so,' Spock agreed.

Taishun gave him a long, measuring stare. Spock returned look for look. Taishun sank back against the pillows, his face showing satisfaction.

'I believe that I can trust you. So be it. I give the life of the T'Aramu into your hands.'

Even Sally had not expected this. As Spock's face blanked into astonishment, she cried,

'Taishun, no! It's not necessary. You can't burden him with this!'

'I give her to you,' Taishun continued inexorably. 'By a death wish I bind her to your care. Her life is yours to protect. Swear it!'

'Please don't do this!' Sally cried frantically, for she knew as well as they the power of a death wish vow. 'Spock, refuse. Say no!'

'Swear it!' Taishun repeated insistently. His breath was coming harshly now.

Spock gazed into the cobalt eyes and saw the courage and the desperation there. He could not, in honour, refuse and Taishun knew it.

'I swear it,' he said steadily.

Taishun sighed as if a weight had suddenly been removed from his chest.

-It is done, T'Aramu-

Spock left them alone. What was said between them then was theirs alone to know.

Four minutes later, Sally came out into McCoy's office and said,

'He's dead.'

Kirk held out a hand to her. She stood where she was, swaying.

'She's going to faint,' McCoy said sharply. Kirk moved, but Spock was faster. Even as she fell, his arms were there to catch her.

As they would now always have to be.

Kirk left Sally with McCoy and went back to the bridge with Spock.

The bridge was very quiet. In the time it had taken Kirk to get from Sickbay, scuttlebutt had run round the ship and everyone knew what had happened. Kirk sat down in the command chair and stared at the viewing screen for a long time.

'Sir,' Uhura said, breaking the silence, 'the Romulan commander is hailing us.'

'On screen, Uhura.'

S'Tarn's face appeared on the screen.

'Your hour is up, Kirk. Where is the Renegade?'

'Dead,' Kirk replied. He could not bring himself to explain the circumstances.

'How did he die? If this is a trick…'

'No trick,' Kirk said wearily. 'He committed suicide. We will beam the body over to you.'

A gleam of grim satisfaction crossed S'Tarn's face.

'So. In the end, he died like a Romulan.'

Kirk thought of the men and women under his command, safe because of Taishun's sacrifice. Of Sally, grieving for the man she had loved.

'No,' he said. 'No. He died like a man.'

Sally, still wearing the robe she had so hastily dragged over her party outfit, paced the corridors of the 'Enterprise' alone.

No sorrow lasted forever. She knew that; knew the raw edge of pain inside her would pass eventually. Even the memory of his eyes on her, his voice telling her that she must help him die, even that would fade. She did not know from what deep corner of her soul had come the strength to do what he wanted her to do, but that same strength would see her through the days until she could smile again.

There would be other men. There would be other loves. Sally knew herself too well to doubt that. Love came to her as naturally as breathing did, and was as vital to her life.

But there would never be another man quite like Taishun.

A balloon floated past her, bouncing along gently in the current of circulated air. From somewhere further down the corridor came the sound of muffled laughter and the hiss of a closing door. Someone was clearly enjoying the aftermath of the party, despite the interruption of a red alert. Sally had toyed with the idea of seeking a little of that kind of distraction herself but in the end decided that Taishun deserved the tribute of a night of vigil kept alone. She wanted to cry, or scream out her grief, but she felt entirely numb. It would have been a relief to cry. To remain dry-eyed and calm seemed like a betrayal of her love.

She rounded a corner and came face to face with Spock.

For a long moment they stared at each other, Spock and Sally, whom it seemed Fate was determined to bind together whether they willed it or not.

'You know I don't hold you to it, right?' Sally said eventually.

Spock nodded. He had expected no other reaction from her, but his vow had been to Taishun and what she wanted or expected was irrelevant. To refuse to respect a death wish vow was a breach of honour that no Vulcan or Romulan could contemplate.

'I came to look for you,' he said. 'Mr Scott needs to know what you wish done with the 'Perihelion'.'

'Perihelion', the ship she had dreamed of sharing with Taishun. Now it was hers alone, the only thing he had given her because it was the only thing he owned.

'I don't know. I hadn't thought about it. Send her to be repaired, I suppose. Can we take her in tow?'

'That has already been done.'

'Has it?' Sally said absently. 'Thank you. She should go to Kairon Omega. That's where Taishun took her to be refitted. He has friends there who will keep her for me.'

'Very well. I will arrange it.'

'I'll do it myself,' she responded sharply. 'Spock, you can't imagine for one minute that I'm going to let you take this vow seriously!'

'Taishun expected me to take it seriously,' Spock pointed out.

'Taishun palmed off on you all the responsibilities he was afraid to accept himself!' she shouted. 'If he had cared about me so bloody much, he would never have left me.' All her sense of loss, all her bitterness, suddenly rose in her throat until she was screaming the words out. 'He left me, do you understand? Nothing I offered him ever counted against his stupid precious honour, it didn't matter that I would have shared any danger to be with him, if he had taken me with him he would never have died…'

Doors began to open all along the corridor, sleepy voices demanded to be told what all the noise was about. Spock took Sally's arm and hustled her unceremoniously into the nearest empty public room. He had no desire to be gaped at by curious crew members if Sally's grief was about to manifest itself in full scale hysteria.

As the door into the corridor closed, Sally broke away from his restraining hand. All blocks were down and the force of her naked emotions were striking Spock with savage intensity. His throat was restricted by and anguish that was not his.

'Sally,' he said. It was the first time he had ever used her Christian name. 'This will not bring him back.'

Sally threw back her head and screamed. It was a sound lost to all reason, all hope. While the echo of it still resonated in his ears, she began to beat her hands against the wall in a concentrated silence that was somehow more appalling than the noise that had gone before.

Spock stood by and let her do it. His understanding of her was still incomplete but he suspected that if her grief demanded this outlet then to stop her would do more harm than good.

Eventually there was calm. Sally gave the wall one last blow. Her arms fell to her side. She rested her forehead against the smooth metal.

'I will never forgive him,' she said.

Into the long silence that followed, Spock said,

'Humans have a saying, I think. "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends". There are four hundred and thirty people on this ship, and I believe Taishun died to save one woman. When you remember him, remember that. In the end, it is the only thing that matters.'

Sally turned her head towards him. Her hair had fallen across her face, effectively screening her expression, but he could feel her surprise.

'So you understand that? I didn't think you would. My apologies, Spock. I seem to have misjudged you.'

She moved unsteadily away from the wall and as she pushed the heavy sweep of hair away from her face, caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

'Crap, is that me? What a _mess._'

Spock realised it was over. Taking his tone from her, he replied,

'I certainly expect to see you better groomed when you report for duty tomorrow.'

'Up yours,' Sally responded, and then added as an obvious afterthought, 'sir.'

'Is that a colloquial expression?' Spock enquired, an interested look on his face. 'I am not quite sure I understand its meaning.'

'Spock, did you know you look appallingly smug when you think you've made a joke?' She smiled at him. It was a shadow compared to her normal cheerful grin, but it was a start. 'C'mon. Tomorrow is a whole new day, thank God.'

She walked past him into the corridor and started towards the elevator. Spock let her get a few paces away and then said,

'Miss Kilsyth.'

She turned, looking back at him enquiringly. Spock waited for a calculated moment and went on,

'I believe I neglected to say 'Welcome back'.'

Her mouth parted in surprise. Then her eyes lit with mischief and she nodded in agreement.

'Yes,' she said. 'You did neglect to say it.'

The slight emphasis on the 'say' did not escape him, but he let it pass without comment.

Because, after all, it was nothing more than the truth.


	5. Chapter 5

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER FIVE – T'ARAMU

The planet below them was uncharted, uninhabited and uninteresting.

'So why are we still here?' Sally asked Kirk when he met her in the park where he had come to spend a few quiet minutes.

'Don't ask_ me,_' Kirk responded. 'I'm just the captain. Our chief geologist seems to think there may be important mineral deposits beneath the surface.' He nodded a greeting to the young man at Sally's side and moved on.

The park was not crowded and Kirk succeeded in finding a secluded spot for himself where he could lie back and close his eyes. Life had been pretty damn quiet recently. After the brief and tragic Taishun episode, the 'Enterprise' had been ordered to take supplies to an outpost of settlers in one of the further corners of the galaxy. Kirk had fumed a bit; it was a mission that could have been run by any automated freight ship. However, the 'Enterprise' had been in the general area and Star Fleet Command had implied that his was not to reason why, in any case.

Kirk had decided to speed things up a bit by flying through a previously uncharted area, and if he had hopes of something unusual turning up, he fondly imagined that his crew didn't know it. All they had come across was the boring hunk of rock below them. Still, one never knew…

The touch was so feather-light that it was some moments before he was aware he was not alone any longer. The softest tickle along his arm, his neck…

'Sally,' he said, without opening his eyes, 'I think I ought to warn you that it is not considered proper for junior members of the crew to attempt to seduce their captain without prior warning.'

'You sound just like Spock,' Sally complained.

Kirk opened his eyes.

'And how many times have you tried to seduce Spock, then?'

Sally chuckled richly and stretched out beside him.

'I meant in tone, not in content. You _must _have noticed – "It is not considered proper…" is his favourite phrase at the moment. Ensigns aren't allowed to do very much at all, from what I can gather. When do I get to be a captain?'

Kirk firmly removed her hand and said,

'Believe me, captains are allowed to do even less. Why am I being seduced, anyway? What's wrong with confining your attentions to your current inmate?'

'Don't have an inmate at the moment,' Sally said discontentedly, tucking her hands safely behind her head. 'Just visitors, and I'm bored with all of them. Planning on taking on any new crew in the near future?'

'If I changed crew often enough to keep pace with your instincts, we'd never leave port.'

'Kindly do not exaggerate,' Sally said, with dignity. 'You know perfectly well that a change of crew would last me a week, at least.'

'Sorry,' Kirk said, with a grin. 'Didn't mean to imply that you're a wanton woman.'

They lapsed into a companionable silence and after a while, Kirk began to doze.

All joking apart, Sally had been remarkably liberal with her favours recently. This was not in itself a concern, since a Sally without a lover was a situation almost impossible to envisage. It was the number of them, and the quality of desperation in Sally , that had at first made Kirk uneasy and finally driven him to consult McCoy.

'Turnin' Puritan, Jim?' had been McCoy's first, drawling reaction.

'That's not funny, Bones,' Kirk had snapped. 'She's gone right over the top. Hadn't you noticed?'

'Depends what you mean by that, Jim. How many lovers have _you _had?'

'Really not the point, doctor. Sally isn't me. She's a woman.'

'And so what?' McCoy had snorted, waving a finger under Kirk's nose. 'She's beautiful and she looks fragile, but she's as tough as you are underneath. Most times, she'll react like you would. And when in pain, it's just as natural for her to indulge in a little promiscuity as it would be for…' he caught Kirk's eye and finished, 'lots of other people, naming and looking at no-one in particular.'

Kirk sighed. It was really none of his business, especially since Sally's work in the Science department had been uniformly excellent (or, "somewhat promising", according to Spock), but the trouble was there was very little else to occupy his mind. Looking at the situation rationally, he should have been pleased; it was not often that the galaxy was so peaceful. But with nothing to do but sign energy consumption reports and sit through tedious bridge watches, Kirk could, and did, wish for some excitement.

Approximately five seconds later he got it. With a vengeance.

Sally said bolt upright beside him and said urgently,

'Jim! There's someone on that planet! And he's looking for…'

He didn't hear the end of the sentence. The park and Sally blurred before his eyes for all the world as if he had just stepped into a transporter beam. When he could see again…

He was standing in a cavern beneath the uninteresting planet's surface.

Sally shrieked -_Spock!_- to the link with such power that every alarm on the ship went off. She had felt complete malevolence in the mind that searched upwards from the planet and that menace was directed specifically at Kirk. She knew that her hard-learned control was slipping under the upsurge of sheer terror she felt for his safety.

The Spock's voice was in her mind, iron-cold, sending a wash of icy calm over her; holding back his own concern for her sake.

-You _will _control. We cannot operate efficiently if you panic now. You will control. I am scanning the planet and I will find him-

McCoy, alerted by Spock, appeared beside her, holding her steady, a hypo in his hand. Her body was shaking but she pulled away from him and said, calmly enough,

'I don't need to be tranquillised, Bones. They'll never find him fast enough. I'll have to do it.'

'You can't,' McCoy said blankly. 'He could be hundreds of meters below the surface. You can't reach that far.'

'I can,' Sally said, through her teeth, 'and I will.'

-Spock. I'm going to start blasting-

Spock braced himself. Sally's mind hurtled outwards, down along the link, towards Kirk.

Kirk had explored the cavern thoroughly and he could find no way out. The metal door set into the rock wall was very firmly closed and there did not seem to be a control panel on his side of it. As far as he could tell the other walls were solid, although there must have been an air vent somewhere since the atmosphere, though damp, was fresh. Water dripped slowly from the walls and the ceiling and centuries of this erosion had caused the floor to form little ridges and valleys, uncomfortable to walk on. The rock seemed to be phospherent as the cavern was lit by a dim, greenish light that looked natural. It was very, very cold.

A metallic whine made him whirl swiftly. The door was sliding open and three men entered. All three held weapons which were pointed directly at him. They looked as if they might be of Klingon stock but their skin, even in that greenish light, was dead white. Kirk was reminded of plants deprived of the sun and bleached of all colour. They wore sashed and brocaded uniforms, which had been patched many times with odd pieces of fabric.

Kirk strode forward angrily, and the weapons followed him.

'Who the hell are you, and what do you want with me?' he snapped.

The man in the middle stepped forward and sketched him a slight, insolent bow. He was tall and heavily muscled but moved with a ponderance that suggested those muscles would run to fat in later life. A badly healed scar ran across his eye from forehead to cheekbone so that the eye looked permanently half-closed. He was smiling, but it was not a pleasant smile.

'I am Darlas, ruler of this world,' he said.

Kirk gestured at the weapons.

'You have a poor notion of hospitality. Do you normally welcome your guests like this?'

'You are not a guest, Kirk. You are a prisoner.'

'What are you? Klingons?'

'We owe allegiance to no-one but ourselves. Our home world disowned us and sent us here many years ago. Not an agreeable place.'

That was a masterpiece of understatement, Kirk thought grimly to himself. He was growing colder by the minute. Resisting the temptation to stamp his feet into some semblance of warmth, he said,

'I entirely fail to see what that has to do with me.'

'It has everything to do with you.' Darlas let his gun slip to the floor and leaned against it, but the aim of the other two did not waver by so much as a millimetre. 'You have a ship. We require transportation.'

'I do not run a passenger service,' Kirk said harshly.

'We do not intend to be passengers. What I have in mind is more of an exchange. Your ship – for my planet.'

'You can go straight to hell and take your planet with you,' Kirk retorted calmly. 'Even if you could force me into handing over my ship to you, you would still need my crew's co-operation – and you wouldn't get it.'

'You think not?' Darlas smiled again and in that smile Kirk saw the same malevolence that had so frightened Sally when she sensed it. This was a man who took pleasure in inflicting pain. A natural destroyer.

'My crew will not hand over the 'Enterprise'. They'll blow her up before they let you board her, whether you hold me or not.'

'Brave words. However, we will not have to board her. Let me tell you a short story.'

'I am not interested,' Kirk snapped. Darlas dealt him a swift, open-handed blow that sent him reeling and followed it up with a vicious jab to the ribs. There was no need for it; three armed men against one, unarmed, were pretty good odds. Kirk drew himself upright, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

'Tell your story,' he said.

'I think you will, after all, find it… interesting.' The smile had become an open sneer but Kirk bided his time. He would wipe that smirk off Darlas' face eventually, and take a good deal of pleasure in it, too.

'When we came here, this planet was deserted,' Darlas went on. 'We were given the basic necessities for survival, nothing more. Look around you, Captain; it is all like this, my kingdom. But we searched, year after year, through every cave, every nook, every passageway, in the hope that the great race that once inhabited the surface had left some remnant of itself that might help us.'

'Presumably you found something,' Kirk interrupted.

'We found something,' Darlas agreed. 'In a cave very far below this one, we discovered a machine. It was damaged, in pieces, and not one of us knew what it was for; but, as you will no doubt find, time hangs heavily on your hands when you are in exile. We had nothing else to do but work on it, and it had repaid us amply. It has given us your ship, our passage from this hell-hole.' He paused, but Kirk did not rise to this bait. 'The machine we found is a transporter. In fact, it is much more than that. It does not pick up a signal. It picks up the delta waves of the transportee. It can tell us who and where you are. Which is why we chose you, of course.'

'Of course,' Kirk said blandly, but his heart was beating uncomfortably fast. He was beginning to see where this was heading.

'So you see, Kirk, we do not need to board your ship. We will simply bring down your people – ten at a time, perhaps – and torture them in front of you until you surrender.'

'It won't work, Darlas. My ship won't hang around while her crew is disappearing.'

'No? It will take some weeks to reach a Starbase from this sector. When we transmit them details of what will be happening to you during that time – and you have my absolute assurance it will not be pleasant – are you so sure that they will go?'

Kirk was not at all sure of it, though he was careful not to let his doubt show on his face. Spock had been known to fight greater odds where his captain's safety was concerned.

'You cannot win,' Darlas said mockingly. 'To use one of your human analogies, I hold all the cards. We will provide you with facilities to contact your ship. It will be so much easier if you surrender now.'

At that precise moment, Kirk's ace came through on the link.

He did not waste time on explanations. Cutting ruthlessly through Sally's enquiries, he transmitted urgently,

-Get my ship out of here. Now!-

Then he matched Darlas' smile, said, 'Give me a moment to consider your… proposal,' and awaited events.

He did not have to wait long. A very few minutes later, a whistle sounded shrilly. Darlas snatched a small black box from his belt and snarled a question into it. The answer did not appear to please him.

'Your ship has just moved out of range, Captain. What did you do?'

'Me?' Kirk raised an innocent eyebrow. He was starting to enjoy himself. 'What could I have done? I told you they wouldn't hang around.'

Darlas hit him. The blow sent him slamming back into the damp walls.

'I will kill you myself,' Darlas said, through his teeth. He motioned his men back and they let their weapons relax, grinning in anticipation.

Kirk launched himself from the stone and his fist made satisfying contact with Darlas' midriff. The man was powerful, but Kirk was fitter; if he went for a quick finish, he would be able to handle the other two and get hold of a gun…

He did not have to. A minute later, Spock's hand came down quietly on Darlas' neck and the fight was over.

'Mr Spock,' Kirk said reproachfully, if breathlessly, 'I was having fun.'

'Yes, Captain. I could see that you were,' Spock replied tonelessly.

Kirk looked round. Darlas men had been put out of action and placed tidily in a corner. Sally was standing guard over them, a phaser in one hand. In the other, she had an apple which she calmly continued to eat as Kirk regarded her.

'I was so busy looking for you I missed lunch,' she said, by way of explanation. 'You wouldn't want me to starve, would you? There _are _limits, after all.'

'I thought I told you to get the hell out of here?' Kirk snapped.

'You did _not_,' Sally responded indignantly. 'You said the ship.'

'Miss Kilsyth was under the impression you were in some danger, Captain,' Spock explained.

'So we sent the ship away and came to rescue you,' Sally finished, throwing away the core of her apple. 'We thought you'd be pleased.'

'I am damn glad to see you,' Kirk admitted. 'Spock, what orders did you leave?'

'Mr Scott is to return to orbit in two hours, with shields up. If he cannot make contact with us, he is to beam down an armed party to these co-ordinates.'

'Excellent. Sally, how many men does Darlas have?'

'Fourteen,' Sally responded promptly, 'none of them in the immediate vicinity. There are forty-three levels in this pace, numbered from the surface, plus several levels below that that are too dangerous to be used and have been blocked off. We're on the tenth level. The fifth has been converted into some kind of communal living area and that's where most of the men are. All of the levels are connected by one inner stairway and none of them are guarded except the forty-third. I haven't just been standing here looking pretty,' she added, to Kirk's look of surprise. 'They're terribly easy to read, these people. Don't even know they've been flashed.'

'Just as well,' Kirk replied, 'or they'd be down here after blood.'

'More than that,' Sally said, very soberly. 'They don't know they've lost the ship yet. They're up there drawing lots for who'll get the first woman they bring down – and what they'll do to her before they kill her.'

'It won't happen, Sally,' Kirk said gently, although he knew as he spoke that comfort was useless. As far as Sally was concerned, it had already happened, and to her.

She mustered a smile for him and said,

'What would you like me to do now, Captain?'

This vision of Sally behaving like a model member of his crew was so irresistible that Kirk grinned, unholy mischief momentarily glinting in his eyes. Through the link came an echo of laughter but she kept her face straight and frowned him down.

'I'd like Spock to take a look at the machine they used to transport me. Can you find it for me?'

'I expect friend Darlas is just bursting with the information. Yes, I thought so. Oh, shit,' her face wrinkled in disgust, 'that's the last time I dip into _his _subconscious. It's on the forty-third level, Captain. One guard. I suppose you'd like me to open the door as well?'

'Good idea,' Kirk agreed.

'I really don't know how you managed before I got here,' Sally commented as the door slid open of its own accord. Kirk was beginning to wonder that himself. He took the spare phaser Spock had brought him and moved cautiously through the doorway with the minimum of noise. The door led to a long, dark passageway with many other doors opening off it.

'They're all empty,' Sally said, following them out. 'This way. This place is like a rabbit warren but apparently if you follow the downward slope you get to the stairway in the end. And here we are.'

The corridor had opened out to a massive spiral staircase hewn from the rock itself. The nearside hugged the wall. The other, all forty-three levels and more of it, had been left open to space.

'It's a good thing I'm not afraid of heights,' Sally said, standing on the very edge of the drop and looking down, 'isn't it?'

Spock, goaded beyond endurance, said crisply,

'Miss Kilsyth, kindly attend to your duties without superfluous observations.'

'Yes, sir,' she said meekly. She then kept the regulation one pace behind them all the way down the stairwell until Kirk finally told her to cut out the comedy.

'Incidentally,' he added, after this remark, 'and don't think I'm criticising, because she's been very useful – what made you bring Sally, Mr Spock?'

There was a short silence. Then Spock said carefully,

'I am aware that Dr McCoy would have been a more logical choice, Captain. However, I was persuaded that Miss Kilsyth's abilities would make her a valuable asset in this situation…'

'Oh, stop covering for me, Spock,' Sally said crossly. She could not see Kirk's expression but she could feel the amusement coming through the link. 'He knows how I managed to get down here. I blackmailed him, Jim. I told him I wouldn't give him your co-ordinates unless he brought me too.'

'It must have been a monumental argument,' Kirk said. 'I wish I'd been there.'

'I'm glad you weren't,' Sally said, with feeling.

Not that there had been, in fact, much of an argument. It had been the unspoken that had been the problem. Knowing that Spock did not want to have to be responsible for trying to protect both herself and Kirk at the same time. Knowing that he feared the day would come when he would have to chose whether to honour his vow to Taishun or keep the trust with Kirk. The fact that Sally was cheerfully prepared to sacrifice limb, life and sanity in order to keep Kirk safe would be of no help to Spock if he had to make her do it.

Sally was under no illusions. If Spock was forced to choose between herself and Kirk, he would choose Kirk. Sally would have had it no other way.

But if he had to choose…

They went cautiously through the entrance to the forty-third level. If they lost the element of surprise, the man in the control room would have time to give the alarm.

In the end, though, they got in quite easily. Sally, secure in the knowledge that Kirk and Spock were positioned on either side of the door with drawn phasers, simply snapped the door open, said, 'Hi, there,' and then stood back out of phaser range. Kirk said afterwards that he thought the phasers were unnecessary, the man had clearly already been stunned by her legs. Sally, unamused, had then uttered several pointed remarks on the subject of sexist pigs masquerading as starship captains. Spock, just as pointedly, ignored both of them as he examined the equipment.

As the place which probably contained the planet's only hardware, it was pretty unimpressive. Kirk thought he recognised a scanner, but it was at least forty years out of date and in a very poor state of repair.

'Hello,' Sally muttered from the far wall, 'what do you make of this, Spock?' Kirk took a look and did not make anything of it at all.

'Fascinating,' Spock said quietly. 'Captain, this is an entirely alien machine. Yet these circuits,' he pointed, 'and these, are compatible with our own transporter. This is undoubtedly the machine they used to bring you here.'

Kirk decided on a closer inspection. He saw a machine built, apparently, into the very rock wall itself and at least four times the size of the transporter console on the 'Enterprise'. It was made of a thick, dark green metal and had been patched with lighter metal in several places. In its centre was a screen, blank at the moment, and this was surrounded by a complex array of switches and levers.

'Captain,' Spock said, an undercurrent of excitement in his voice, 'I believe I can detach the central control.'

'Then do so, Mr Spock. We'll give it to the boffins at Starbase 12 and see what they make of it. In the right hands, it could be very useful.'

'Very useful indeed, sir,' said Spock, working rapidly, 'since it appears to need no receiver or pre-set co-ordinates as our current system does.'

Sally picked up a screwdriver from the floor and began to lend Spock a hand.

'Incidentally, Sally, did you manage to pick up any information on the background to our friends' exile here?' Kirk asked.

'Hmm, yes, lots,' Sally replied. Her hands were moving as if they were an extension of Spock's. Despite the smallness of the space in which they were working, their fingers did not so much as touch and both pairs of hands moved with equal swiftness and precision. 'They're from a small planet on the outskirts of the Klingon system. A real nasty little lot, even the Klingons couldn't stomach 'em. After they tried to assassinate the Klingon Chancellor they were packed off here…'

Her head veered round sharply; Kirk was graphically reminded of a terrier, scenting a fox.

'You about finished, Spock? Company coming.'

'How close?' Kirk snapped.

'Level ten. They've found Darlas.'

'Damn. This is the first place they'll make for and I don't want to meet them on those stairs. Can we get up a couple of levels without them spotting us?'

'If we're fast.'

'Spock – you heard the lady.'

'Captain, these are very delicate connections…'

'Level twenty, Cap'n Jim.'

'An hour and a half before the 'Enterprise' is back – and no chance of reaching her by communicator til she's in range. Sally, can you…?'

'Not with both of my links down here,' Sally retorted. Spock's back stiffened as she spoke and Sally's guilty expression a moment later told Kirk she had definitely not meant to say that…

_Both _of her links. It had been said at last. Both.

No time to think about that now. Kirk said,

'Come on, Spock. Leave it. We'll get it later.'

'Ready, Captain,' Spock said, drawing the control panel out gently.

'Too late,' Sally said simultaneously. 'Fortieth, and coming fast. Darlas is with them and he does not feel pleasant… hang on…' she snapped her fingers and Kirk heard shouts in the distance.

'Rock fall,' she explained to Kirk. 'Should slow 'em up a bit. Jim… how do you want to play this? Do I kill them?'

Kirk looked at her.

'Could you?'

'Well, I've never tried. It's a bit… big. Scary. Killing someone. I mean, I could do it. Trips, levitate and drop, phaser explosion.'

'Keep them off, Sally. But if needs must… if it's kill or be killed… You too, Spock.'

Kirk did not voice what they all knew. That Darlas would kill them without hesitation, and take pleasure in it.

'Best not to get caught then,' Sally said, trying for a lighter note.

'Can we get down to the lower levels?'

'They're blocked off, Jim.'

'You could get through?'

'I'll certainly try…'

Kirk was moving for the door as the words left her mouth, beckoning for her to lead the way. She slipped past him, holding her phaser at the ready. Kirk let Spock follow with the control panel and he himself brought up the rear.

They went down the stairs at breakneck speed and as silently as they could although Darlas would realise where they had gone when he found the cavern empty and the guard stunned. With only one staircase, there was no-where to go but down.

There was a hoarse cry from above them and a blast of fire hit the wall beside Kirk. He wheeled, intending to take a shot, and knowing as he did so that he was moving too fast, too close to the edge and the endless drop. His foot slipped on the smooth stone and he was falling, his phaser tumbling into the void as his arms flailed in the effort to keep his balance.

'Jim!' Spock, some way below him, dropping the control panel with a crash, heedless of the damage, coming up the stairs three at a time.

Kirk made a desperate lunge for the hand reaching for him – and missed. Spock grasped at empty space and Kirk plunged headfirst into nothing.

And did not fall.

He remained, floating, some six feet from the point where he had fallen. Carefully, very carefully, he slewed his eyes round to look at Sally. She was standing quite still with an expression of fierce concentration on her face.

'I have you, Cap'n Jim. I won't let you fall. Don't move. I'll bring you down.'

'Thank you,' Kirk managed. His body began to hover very gently back towards solid ground. Spock, who had been as petrified as the rock around them, reached out and pulled his captain to safety.

'There they are!'

Sally threw her phaser to Kirk, grabbed the control panel, and began to scramble downwards again. Kirk and Spock fired together into the greenish gloom above them. A scream, sharply cut off, told them that at least one shot had gone home.

'Get after them!' Darlas screamed. 'I want them alive!'

Kirk and Spock turned and raced after Sally, catching up with her where the staircase came to a sudden and complete end. Their position was not good; Darlas' men, perched on the stairs above them, could take pot-shots at them whenever they wanted to.

'I can take us down, Jim,' Sally said confidently. 'They won't be able to follow and there are caves to hide out in until Scotty gets here.'

'Down as in…'

'Float, yes. Don't look so worried, Jim. I can lift wardrobes, I'm sure I can manage the two…'

Another blast from Darlas' men exploded beside her. The fire missed her but the concussion knocked her from her feet. She crashed to the ground, hit her head heavily on a loose boulder, and lay still.

Kirk didn't need to check to know she was still alive. That basic, ephemeral awareness of her that was encapsulated in the link still rang with assurance in his mind. He peered through the gloom and took a couple of shots. If they could hold off Darlas until Sally regained consciousness…

Something small and round clattered past him, coming to rest at a point between himself and Spock. He only barely registered it, thinking it to be just another stone, but some sixth sense must have warned him just the same, for he was shouting to Spock to hit the ground as the gas capsule exploded.

Much too late, however.

To be continued….

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

Chapter Five – T'Aramu (continued)

Kirk came back to awareness slowly and painfully. His entire body felt stiff and sore, and aching ribs and muscles suggested that he had been savagely kicked after he went out. He opened his eyes and took stock of the situation.

He was sitting in a rough stone chair, hands bound so tightly behind his back that he could barely feel his fingers. Opposite, likewise tied and about six feet away, was Spock. The Vulcan was awake and watching his captain keenly. Kirk grinned wryly.

'Looks like we ran out of luck, Spock.'

'I do not believe in luck, Captain. At the present moment, however, the situation does appear to be outwith our control.'

'Can you get out of your bonds?'

'Darlas would appear to know something of Vulcan strength, sir. My hands have been tied with thin steel wire. Any attempt to release myself will result in an artery being severed.'

Cursing fluently under his breath, Kirk looked around. They were in a large cave, more room-like than any he had yet seen since the walls were dry, perpendicular and travelled up to a ceiling rather than a curve. It was lit artificially with torches set into the walls at intervals, and a fire burned sluggishly in a huge grate in the middle of the floor. Aside from the chairs which held Kirk and Spock, there were two trestle tables – both covered with a messy assortment of cutlery and unfinished food – and some benches. There was no-one else in the room.

Kirk sat up straight so fast he heard his spine crack in protest.

'Spock! Where's Sally?'

'Not known, Captain.'

Kirk sent out on the link and found… nothing.

'She is not dead, Jim.'

Kirk looked into the brown eyes. They were quite calm and yet, as a faint resonance, Kirk could feel the undercurrent of concern both for Sally's safety and his captain's.

'If she isn't dead I should be able to pick her up,' Kirk said. He realised, belatedly, that he had completely taken for granted that Spock knew he and Sally were linked, which was yet another reason for believing Spock and Sally were too; if Kirk had not told him, then who had?

'Not if she were still unconscious. Or if she has set up blocks. Not even I can reach through blocks maintained by a telepath as powerful as Miss Kilsyth.'

'What the devil would she do that for?' Kirk's pent-up worry found relief in a futile explosion of wrath. 'She should be keeping me up to date with developments. It's what she's paid for.'

'If,' Spock said, precisely, reluctantly, 'she were in a situation that would cause us – you – distress, then she would shut you out.'

'She must just be unconscious.' Kirk said, without much hope. He was remembering Sally's voice saying, "They're up there drawing lots for who'll get the first woman they bring down…"

Kirk's muscles knotted as he strained to get loose from his bonds. To sit there, tied and useless, unable to go to Sally's aid when she might need him, was more than he could bear.

His eyes fell on the fire. If he could manoeuvre the chair over to it, he might be able to burn the ropes off. Bracing his legs against the floor, he pushed. The heavy stone moved all of half an inch.

'Captain,' Spock said quietly. 'There is someone coming.'

The door swept open and Darlas entered the room. Four men followed close on his heels. Between them they carried Sally's limp body. Her uniform was torn and spattered with blood. At a nod from Darlas, they threw her down; she rolled across the floor, coming to rest between Kirk and Spock. In the light from the torches they could see the bruises on her face all too clearly.

Spock looked at Darlas with a face that appeared to have been carved from granite and the expression promised death at the earliest opportunity. Kirk could see the muscles in the powerful shoulders tense as Spock prepared to tear loose from his bonds no matter what the costs and Kirk called on all his reserves of strength to try to do the same, to fight shoulder to shoulder with Spock against all the odds.

Darlas was smiling at both of them. His teeth gleamed in the firelight.

'An interesting specimen of womanhood,' he commented. 'Worth waiting for, in fact.'

'Well, I hope you made the most of it,' Kirk said, in a voice so strangled with fury that he barely recognised it as his own, 'because she's the last woman you'll ever see.'

'Captain, Captain, what do you take me for? Rape an unconscious woman?' Several of the men started to snigger. 'Hardly. It's much more stimulating when they're awake, and there's an audience. Especially one that cares what happens to her.' Kirk's hands knotted themselves into fists involuntarily and Darlas added, 'Please do not tire yourself struggling to loosen the ropes. I have plans for you afterwards that will require you to be… fully alert. We haven't tortured anyone for quite some time, and we may be a little rusty. I wouldn't want you to die too soon.'

Kirk's hands were free.

He had not broken loose; the ropes had slipped off of their own accord. He looked at Spock; the Vulcan nodded infinitesimally.

She was awake – and kicking.

-How about a little chaos, Sally?-

-Absolutely my pleasure, Captain-

The fire in the centre of the room flared upwards with a roar, the flames almost reaching the roof. At the same time, all the torches went out.

And all hell broke loose.

As the trestle tables flew into the air to shatter against the walls, Kirk and Spock erupted from chairs. Sally was on her feet, smashing a piece of wood into the face of the man nearest to her.

Spock was making for Darlas and there was murder in his face.

To his credit, the man stood his ground. As his men ran in panic from the shockingly sudden display of Sally's power, as Kirk's fists were wreaking their own kind of chaos, Darlas levelled his gun at Spock and grinned.

The gun flew out of his grasp and into Spock's. The Vulcan closed his hand on it, crumpling it out of all recognition, and threw it aside contemptuously.

'Are you as much of a man with your hands?' he asked.

'Try me,' Darlas suggested, through his teeth.

Kirk felled the last of the guards and turned in time to see Spock knock Darlas to the ground with one savage, back-handed blow.

The room was silent. Sally said,

'Leave him to me, Spock.'

And Spock stood back.

Darlas pulled himself slowly into a sitting position. With Spock's eye on him he did not dare do more, but still he managed to smile.

'I underestimated you all, especially the she-devil. What will you do to me woman?'

'I will kill you,' Sally said calmly. Her voice was quiet but there was madness in her eyes. 'Slowly. Painfully. As you were going to kill Jim and Spock.'

'With your hands?' Darlas chuckled. 'Allow me to doubt it.'

'With my mind, Darlas. I will rip out every thought, every memory you possess. And you will feel it happen. As I tear the last impulse out of you, you will know it. You will be empty. A vegetable, capable of nothing.'

The smile had at last faded from Darlas' face. He said abruptly,

'Give me to the Vulcan. I would prefer his way of death.'

'I don't doubt it,' Sally whispered. She began to move closer.

'Sally, you will not do this,' Kirk said strongly.

Not even by a fractional hesitation did she show that she had heard him. Darlas said, very rapidly,

'I beg of you. Obey your captain. You could not be so inhuman.'

'If they had begged, would you have listened? I _know _what you had planned for them.'

'Spock,' Kirk said in an urgent undertone, 'you can't let her do this.'

'I cannot stop her, Captain,' Spock said. The tone implied that even if he could – he would not.

Darlas screamed. The horror in it sent chills up Kirk's spine. Much though he might deserve to die, Kirk could not stand by and see it happen this way. He reached out and grasped Sally's arm. She felt rigid.

'Let me be, Jim,' she said.

Kirk took hold of her shoulders and forcibly turned her to face him.

'Let me go. He should suffer. He is a monster. He needs to die.'

Kirk said,

'Sally, I would willingly tear him apart with my bare hands, and I will if you must have him dead. But you can't use your power this way. The stain of it will follow you forever. I forbid it as your captain. As your friend, I tell you that you cannot do this.'

She shook her head slightly. Kirk saw that it was an open question whether she would go through him to get to Darlas and he braced his mind and his body to stop her.

Sally's eyes met his. He saw the rage there, the desire for revenge. And he knew that he had won.

The door swept open. Kirk thrust Sally from him and turned with Spock to meet whatever might be coming through it.

It was Scott and half-a-dozen security men.

'Shiii…' Kirk caught himself on the edge of laughter. 'And they say the cavalry never arrives.'

'Captain!' Scott took in the wreckage, the bodies, Sally's torn uniform. 'Are you alright?'

'We are, Scotty. Any problems?'

'Och, nane that we couldna handle. We met a few laddies on thon stairs who didna look too pleased to see us, but they're past botherin' aboot it noo. What are your orders, sir?'

'To get us out of here pretty damn quick,' Kirk retorted. 'Sally, what did they do with the control panel?'

Sally nodded at the doorway. The panel, and their two remaining phasers, were floating through it. Kirk reached out and plucked them from the air.

'No!' Darlas cried. 'You cannot take that. Better to kill us outright than to leave us here without hope.'

'Don't tempt me,' Kirk said grimly. 'Okay, everyone, let's go.'

'_Nooo!_' Darlas shrieked. He came off the floor with the speed of a striking snake, grabbing one of the guns his men had dropped, aiming it at Kirk.

Before he could fire, Sally snapped her fingers. A piece of wood, three feet long, bulleted off the ground and embedded itself in his chest. With a look of complete surprise on his face, Darlas fell forward without a sound. The sliver was thrust through his body as he fell, emerging from his back horribly stained with blood.

'Lassie,' Scott said, staring at Sally, 'I dinna believe that was necessary.'

'It was,' said Sally. 'It was.'

McCoy came out from Sickbay into his office. He looked tired.

'How is she?' Kirk asked.

'Two broken ribs, a slight concussion, a lot of bruising and some minor internal bleeding. Nothing worse than that, thank God. I'll keep her in here for a couple of days. After that, she'll be fit to return to duty. I need a drink.'

Kirk had one poured for him. McCoy gulped it down in one swallow and poured himself another.

The planet was fast receding. Kirk had sent a message to Star Fleet Command informing them of events and ensuring that no ship would ever call there again. Darlas' men would live out the rest of their lives in exile, which was no more than they deserved.

'She'll recover,' McCoy said. The words were as much to reassure himself as Kirk. 'She's tough, Jim.'

'Physically, I don't doubt that she will,' Kirk replied. 'She saved our lives, Bones. I'm just not sure what it cost her to do it.'

'If you want my opinion,' said McCoy, who had finally been told about the link between Kirk and Sally just a few hours before, 'and I don't expect you do…'

'But I'm going to get it anyway…'

'This link, as you call it, is the worst thing that could have happened to the two of you. How can you operate, with her in your head all the time?'

'I can handle it. It's hard to explain, Bones. It's not like that. And it saved my life today. I have to be grateful for that.'

'So 'm I,' McCoy said gruffly. 'But…'

'And in any case, there's nothing to be done about it now. It's a work in progress. I guess we'll just have to see how it turns out.'

'Humph,' said McCoy.

Kirk waited until Sally was released from Sickbay and then called on her in her cabin. There was still something that needed to be discussed.

As usual, her door was open for him and she had a brandy waiting for him, too.

'Getting drunk, Sally?'

'Certainly am, Cap'n Jim. Join me.'

The room was barely lit and Kirk reached for the light control but Sally said, 'Leave it, Jim. I look better in twilight, at the moment.' She snapped her fingers at the sleeping area and its light came on, dimly. Kirk sat down in the easy chair that Sally had introduced to replace the functional, and not very comfortable, ship's issue. She sat at his feet, curled up on the floor, one arm resting across his leg.

'Sally,' Kirk said, half-joking, 'why is it that I'm not in love with you?'

'Beats me, given your reputation' she replied. 'Mind you, glad you're not. I am not a jealous woman but I sure as hell wouldn't be happy to take second place to a hunk of metal, beautiful though she is.'

Kirk smiled, but said seriously,

'That "hunk of metal" makes a poor bedfellow, though.'

'Hmm, really?' In a tone of polite interest. 'Dear Jim, if I thought for one minute the 'Enterprise' was your only bedfellow, you might find me more sympathetic.'

'Can't get away with anything, can I?'

'Not for a second.'

Kirk leaned over her to refill his glass. As he did so, his eye was caught by something sparkling and gleaming in the corner of the room.

'What's that?' he asked. 'Looks pretty.'

Sally followed his gaze and her mouth lifted in an odd smile.

'Oh, _that.' _There was an inflexion in her voice that he could not identify. 'It's a present. Come and see.'

He followed her over to a small alcove. A snap from Sally, and light flooded into it. Kirk caught his breath in wonder.

It was a sculpture, executed in pure, unflawed crystal. Blue and red fire flashed in its icy depth, giving it a quality of ever-changing and constant movement. It showed a woman clad in loose, flowing robes, her arms spread wide as if she were about to launch herself into flight. From her shoulder blades, two wings arched above her, each delicate feather distinctly and carefully carved. The beautiful face had been given the same careful detail, from the half smile on the generous mouth to the fine curves of the eyebrows.

'It's you,' Kirk said, fascinated.

'No,' Sally said softly. 'It's the T'Aramu. Did you never hear the legend?'

Kirk shook his head.

'Once upon a time,' Sally began, in a sing-song voice, 'there lived a witch-woman. She had great powers and her people called her T'Aramu, the Firewoman. She was more beautiful than any mortal woman had ever been and many men tried to win her love, but she spurned them all.

'There were jealous gods in those days who hated her for her beauty and her power. They cast a spell on her, condemning her to ride the wind, never set foot on the earth again until she found a man whose love she could return.'

'And did she?'

'Not yet. According to the story, she still flies alone…'

'Who gave it to you? Taishun?'

'No,' she said, matter-of-factly. 'Spock did.'

'Spock?' Kirk finally turned away from the statue to gaze at Sally in disbelief. 'You can't be serious.'

'Came as quite a surprise to me, too,' Sally admitted. 'Sort of implies he's learned to stand the sight of me, wouldn't you say?'

'If we were talking about anyone but Spock… Where did he find it?'

'Oh, he made it. Which is why it looks like me. I'm the model – at least, I think I must have been.'

'You must have been,' Kirk agreed. He was not sure that he understood any of this. Neither the gift, nor the sculpture itself, bore any relation to the Spock he knew, though the Vulcan was certainly talented enough to have done it.

'On the planet,' Kirk said abruptly, reminded of the reason for his visit. 'You said "Both my links".'

'Did I?' Sally responded, in a tone of studied lightness. 'Slip of the tongue, Cap'n Jim.'

'I very much doubt that. Come on, Sally. Give.'

Sally pressed the alcove switch and the light went off, leaving the T'Aramu glimmering faintly in the dim glow from the bedroom. Her face wore a look of… absent concentration?

'It's not my secret to tell you,' she said, 'but perhaps it is time you knew.' Her cabin door swept open and she added, 'Come on in and join the party, Spock.'

Kirk's First Officer stepped into the room, acknowledging Kirk's presence with a faint bow. He looked vaguely ill at ease and Kirk did not imagine that he himself looked entirely comfortable.

'Oh, for God's sake sit down, both of you,' Sally snapped after a few moments had elapsed and no-one had spoken. Kirk sat back down in the easy chair. Spock perched on another, as if prepared to take flight at any second, back ramrod-straight. Sally moved out of their sight, and sat quietly on the bed.

'I must congratulate you on your perception, Captain,' Spock said eventually. 'I believe you have suspected for some time that a link does exist.'

'Suspected?' Kirk shook his head. 'I think I knew from the first. But it's still a surprise to have it confirmed. You might have told me, Spock. Especially since it's clear you have always known that Sally and I are linked.'

There was hurt accusation in the tone and Spock acknowledged the justification for it with a nod.

'It served no useful purpose to tell you, Captain. It was… difficult enough to come to terms with it myself. There was no need to involve you provided I remained – functional.'

'And was there ever a doubt of that?' Kirk asked. It needed to be said. He wanted to know how much the Vulcan had not shared with him.

'In the beginning,' Spock said, and the averted face told Kirk just how much the confession was costing him, 'there was… some doubt.'

'And you went through it alone? Spock, if I had known – I mean, of course I knew that you had problems with Sally but if I had even begun to imagine it was that bad for you, I would have forced you to accept my help whether you wanted it or not. You know that, don't you?'

'I know it now, and I knew it then,' Spock said quietly. 'I could not ask for help. I am a Vulcan. If I had not been able to learn to control on my own, I would not be worthy of that name. To ask for aid from a human would have been… an admission of failure I could not have tolerated. To accept it would have been impossible.'

'And now?' Kirk asked. 'How is it with you now, my friend?'

'As it must always be, Jim,' Spock replied calmly, only his use of Kirk's name showing how moved he was by his concern. 'Difficult, of course. But supportable. And at times – even useful.'

'Thanks, Spock,' Sally murmured. It was a measure of how familiar her presence, physical and mental, had become to both of them that they had forgotten she was there, had spoken as frankly as they would have had she not been in the room. Without turning, Spock spoke to her mind alone.

-The debt is repaid. I thank you for his life-

Neither Spock nor Sally mentioned Taishun's death wish. As Spock might have said, it would have served no useful purpose.

It was a night for confidences.

Perhaps it was the sense of relief in the Vulcan at finally allowing Kirk to share the secret he had kept for all those years; perhaps it was the fact that Sally had shown herself to be extravagantly willing to pay the price of friendship.

Perhaps it was simply that she had repaid the debt.

Whatever the reason, when Kirk left Spock and Sally alone together in the dark hour before ship's dawn, there was at last no sense of constraint between them. There was even, for the first time, comradeship. Born of dangers shared, of a common love for Kirk, of respect and a sure knowledge of each other, the time had come to name the friendship that had grown with the link.

And Spock, generously, had named it with his gift of the T'Aramu. His acceptance was the gift beyond price, and based then mainly on the merit of Kirk's affection for her.

Now she had earned acceptance for herself.

'It was more than you owed,' Spock told her.

Sally shrugged. Her robe shifted slightly at the movement, falling open to reveal the delicate bones at the base of her neck, and the bruises on the upper curve of her breast.

'Do we calculate friendship that way? I don't think so. Love has no limit, Spock, and those of us who dare to go on loving in the teeth of Fate know that most of all. If there comes a time when I must die to save him, I won't count the cost of that either.'

'I know it, now,' Spock said, 'and I ask your forgiveness for ever having doubted it.'

'I don't want your forgiveness. I would like your friendship. I think I have earned it.'

'If there is a price on my friendship, then you have paid it.'

'Good,' Sally said simply. 'There is no other man in the universe I would rather call friend.'

'There is… one other thing that must be said.'

'Yes?' said Sally. And waited. In the half shadow of the room the still livid marks on her face were not visible and her hair gleamed like fire.

'You must be aware,' Spock continued, the even cadence of his words giving some hint of how difficult it was for him to say it, 'that the link we share plays a part in the Vulcan mating ceremony.'

'I am, yes,' Sally responded matter-of-factly. Her prosaic manner had the desired effect; Spock relaxed almost visibly. 'I was permitted to attend the bonding of your cousin T'Palla while I was on Vulcan. And of course I know that since T'Pring rejected you, you have not been formally bonded to another Vulcan woman.'

'There was no need,' Spock admitted, 'and less time. The circumstances were… unpropitious.'

'To say the least. Shall we just cut to the chase here? It's late and we are both tired. You are trying to warn me that if you do not bond with someone else, in the event of Pon Farr you are likely to make a determined and probably successful attempt to break down my bedroom door, yes?'

'I would not,' Spock said, with what dignity he could muster, 'have put it in quite those terms. However, in essentials, you are correct.'

'You of all people must know by now that my bedroom door is _never_ locked to my friends,' she said quietly. He realised she was not mocking him, but trying to lessen his embarrassment by making reference to his forced intimate knowledge of her lifestyle; indeed, he was fairly certain she was trying to even the balance between them by pointing out that he knew things about her she probably would prefer he did not.

'Miss Kilsyth…'

Sally laughed. It was a sound of genuine amusement and Spock had the uncomfortable feeling it was at his expense. When the giggles had subsided enough to allow her to speak, her words confirmed it.

'Spock, formality does not come easily to me and I think in this situation we could dispense with it, don't you?'

'Perhaps it is not currently appropriate,' Spock agreed. 'Sally, are you indicating that you are willing… that you would accept…'

'Well, it would be fairly hypocritical of me to throw up my hands in horror and pretend that my rather tattered virtue is offended,' Sally said, pretty sharply. 'I am glad that you asked me. We needed to have it said between us. In plain terms, then, yes. Of course. Without question and without hesitation. In fact,' she eyed him speculatively through lowered lids, a mischievous half-smile lurking in the corner of her mouth, 'I could see that it might even be fun. Would you care for a trial run right now?'

It said much for Spock's growing understanding of her that he knew immediately the last remark was not serious and not intended to be taken seriously.

They had all had, perhaps, enough gravity for a while.

Sally yawned suddenly and unselfconsciously, stretching her body like a cat's.

'Do we need to say anything else? I must get some sleep.'

Spock shook his head and rose. She sat where she was, curled up on the floor against her chair, watching him through eyes half-closed with weariness.

'Goodnight, Spock,' she murmured, as her eyes closed altogether. 'Or perhaps I should say, 'Good morning'…'

She was asleep as the words left her mouth, suddenly and completely, like a child. Her unconscious face wore the same amazing look of innocence as Kirk's did when he slept.

Spock picked her up and laid her gently on the bed. She did not wake. He stood looking down at her for some few minutes before he left. Sally, had she been privileged to see him, might have been more than surprised at the expression on his face.

A very astute observer might even have called it tenderness.

16


	6. Chapter 6

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER SIX – PENTHESILEA

'Penthesilea has a matriarchal society,' Spock informed the members of the briefing party, 'which came about through natural, and not sociological, causes. Male children are born very rarely and those who do survive to adulthood are treated as pampered individuals, expected to provide breeding services.'

'That's disgusting,' McCoy snorted. Spock raised an eyebrow.

'Practical, doctor,' he corrected. 'The society is 93.75% female with a death rate for male children of over 97%. Men have no other purpose in their view than that of ensuring the survival of the species. Given the physical differences between the sexes on Penthesilea, they are capable of little else.'

He nodded to Uhura who pressed a stud on the comm console. A picture appeared on the briefing room screen and Kirk pursed his lips in a silent whistle.

'The women are without exception of outstanding stamina and strength,' Spock went on, although the statement was hardly necessary. The picture on the screen showed a woman in Federation uniform standing beside a native of Penthesilea. If the woman was of standard height for a Star Fleet recruit then the Silean was over two and a half meters tall, with muscles to match. She was clad in a short, loose tunic which left the powerful shoulders and legs bare. Her dark hair was cropped close to her head and revealed a bone structure that was startlingly beautiful although the rigidity of her expression made Spock's normal aloof gaze seem positively warm by comparison.

'They excel at all forms of sport and are known to produce some of the finest artworks in the galaxy. Technologically, however, they have remained static. They show no interest in branching out into space and refuse permanent contact with other species, but are quite willing to allow short visits by small landing parties.'

'The problem being, I assume,' Kirk said, 'that they will not deal with men?'

'Quite correct, Captain,' Spock agreed. 'They seem to find it impossible to believe that men of any species are capable of command. They will automatically assume that a woman is in charge; if there are no female members in a landing party, they will simply ignore it.'

'How did it happen that a society developed with such a vast difference in the sexes?' Uhura asked.

'It appears to have been an entirely natural evolutionary process, Lieutenant,' Spock replied. Given that so many more women than men are born, it was on the females that the burden of protection fell and in their ancient past they developed the strength to maintain it. There are precedents even in your own history. Train women and men alike from birth and there will be no appreciable difference in the adult skeleton, as excavation of your ancient Spartan race has proved.'

'Looks like a nice place to visit,' Kirk mused, 'but I don't think I'd want to live there. Well, no matter. Star Fleet has handed us the problem of negotiating a dilithium mining treaty with them, so negotiate we will. Care to join me in the landing party, Mr Spock?'

'Certainly, sir,' the Vulcan responded promptly. 'However…'

'I know,' Kirk said, with a mischievous grin. 'One of our ladies has just achieved temporary promotion, and I suspect I know someone who'll be more than delighted to accept the responsibility…'

'Ah ha,' said Sally, who had been quietly impersonating an ideal crew member at the foot of the table, ' I wondered why I'd been included.'

'Get yourself a gold uniform and report to Transporter Room 2 at 08.00 tomorrow, ensign,' Kirk said. 'And Spock - a work out tonight? If I have to meet one of those very dominant ladies, I'd rather be on top form, I think.'

When Kirk arrived in the gym that evening, a little earlier than planned, it was almost deserted. He preferred it that way, normally choosing a time when most of the crew were otherwise occupied. Much though he enjoyed his workouts with Spock, he felt that the spectacle of the ship's captain being soundly trounced by the First Officer (an event which took place rather more frequently than he would have liked) was not one to inspire confidence.

Almost, but not quite, deserted. Kirk was surprised to see that Spock was there, with Sally of all people. The sight of them alone together was unusual enough to make Kirk pause and when he realised they were performing some kind of exercise, he couldn't resist watching. He assumed they would not mind; the gym, was after all, a public area.

They wore matching robes, similar to karate or judo robes but somewhat more elegantly cut in a very fine fabric. Spock's was unrelieved by any splash of colour. Sally, on the other hand, had a green collar on hers.

He had no idea what they were doing – certainly nothing Spock had ever taught him, although here and there he saw elements of moves he was familiar with. It might have been a dance, or some Vulcan form of Tai'Chi, or a meditation exercise, or even all three. Whatever it was, it was absolutely beautiful to see. They moved as one person, each anticipating the other's actions with split-second precision so that they were always placed exactly to support and control each other. Although the movements were slow, they were precariously balanced. There were moments when Kirk thought one of them must fall, but it never happened. Once or twice he thought Spock minutely corrected Sally in some way.

They fell apart, took three steps back and bowed formally to each other. Sally immediately shrieked 'Hi, Cap'n Jim!' tugging off her restraining hair clasp as she did so and running her hands through her locks so that her curls stood out crazily round her head. She came waltzing over to him, removing her jacket to reveal something brightly coloured and typically miniscule underneath. She had also, Kirk noted with amusement, painted her finger and toe nails green to match her collar.

'That was amazing, Sally. What was it?'

'The V'Kren, Captain,' Spock had followed Sally in a more restrained fashion. 'Part of the Vulcan science of mind control. Miss Kilsyth needs to practice regularly in order to maintain optimum efficiency.'

'And Spock, being the only Vulcan on board, has been kind enough to work with me,' Sally explained. 'We wouldn't want me slipping back into bad habits, now would we? I must say though… _Hello. _Who's that?'

Kirk followed her gaze, and sighed.

'Lieutenant Josh O'Hara. He joined the ship last week.'

'Yum. Fresh prey. I'm off. Bye!'

It actually wasn't unlike watching a predator at work, Kirk reflected; circling the pack, isolating her target and then moving in for the kill. Within a very short space of time, Sally and her new best friend had departed.

'Damn it,' Kirk said, exasperated, 'it would do that chit no harm at all to fall for someone she can't have just by lifting a finger.'

'Indeed, Captain?' Spock replied.

'You'd think there'd be all kinds of trouble.' Kirk mused, following his train of thought despite Spock's discouraging expression. 'Broken hearts, messy break-ups, jealous scenes, all the usual illogical detritus of human romances,' with a sidelong look at Spock. 'But it just doesn't happen. Do you know I have four weddings booked in the next six weeks and every one of the grooms is an ex of Sally's? Introduced to their partners by her, too.'

'Miss Kilsyth is uniquely placed, sir.'

'You mean, as a matchmaker? Maybe. But I'd rather like to see her in a relationship that lasts a bit longer than two minutes before she passes them on.'

At this point, McCoy might have said something caustic about pots and kettles. Spock merely looked non-committal. It then occurred to Kirk that he had meant unique as in being unable to have a committed relationship with anyone other than another telepath, and decided that was definitely a conversation too far.

'Does the colour have a meaning, Spock? On her collar, I mean. Unless of course it's one of those things you can't tell outworlders about.'

'It is not, Captain, and Miss Kilsyth would no doubt tell you in any case. There are fifteen levels of proficiency in the Vulcan science of mind between postulant and adept. Each level is associated with a colour.'

'Green being…?'

'Thirteenth level, sir. No other human has attained it. An impressive achievement.'

'Really? She's quite special, my Sally, isn't she? Although I do find it very hard to believe that she is anywhere close to reaching enlightenment.'

'It does seem a remote prospect,' Spock agreed dryly. 'Shall we begin, Captain?'

Sally arrived in the transporter room wearing a command gold dress. She had undoubtedly shortened it. She had also, unless Kirk was very much mistaken, made adjustments to the fit, since the fabric was moulded to every inch of her body.

'The secret is not to wear too much underneath,' she responded smugly to his accusing look and Kirk, with a silent sigh, decided not to ask for any further details in case she provided them.

The door swept open and Spock stepped into the room. He took in Sally's costume at a glance and his eyebrows went up.

'Captain Kilsyth, I presume?'

'One day, the title will be more than temporary,' Sally assured him.

'May the combined gods of the galaxies preserve us,' Kirk muttered. 'Energise, Mr Kyle.'

They arrived in the central plaza of Penthesilea's main city, Scythia.

The columns of white, pink and blue stone were vaguely reminiscent of ancient Greece, as were the temple-like structures of the buildings. The plaza was paved with matched slabs of white marble and surrounded on all sides by a colonnade of carved pillars. A crystal clear fountain in the centre of the courtyard played over a delicate sculpture. The sun was warm and bright, the breeze pleasantly cool, the sky a pale shadow of yellow. Over the sloping, pink-tiled roofs of the buildings they could see huge, silver-leaved trees.

'Oh, it's lovely,' Sally said, in awed tones. 'It's absolutely beautiful.'

Kirk could only agree. He had visited countless planets in his lifetime but none where art and nature seemed to have melded together to produce such total perfection of form. No garish colours jolted the eye, no awkwardly placed column spoiled the symmetry. The city might have risen fully formed from the earth as Aphrodite had risen from the waves.

Spock said,

'There has been no war on this planet for as far back as their history records. They have never developed weapons beyond the stave and bow and arrow, and they will not allow men of other cultures to bear arms in the city, although women may do so.' He glanced down at Sally, who wore both a phaser and a communicator on her belt; he and Kirk, in accordance with the custom he had just described, had neither. 'The Sileans have devoted their considerable talents to the pursuits of art, literature and sport.' His voice was pitched somewhat lower than usual as if he, too, was impressed by what they were seeing.

'Now, see what happens when women are in charge?' Sally said. 'A perfect society.'

'No society is ever perfect,' Kirk said dryly. 'There'll be a snake in the woodpile somewhere, there always is.'

-Reception committee at 2 o'clock, gentlemen-

From the shadows between the pillars, four women approached them. As they drew closer, it became apparent that even the smallest of them towered a foot above Spock. They moved easily, with the assured grace of trained athletes, and surprisingly lightly for their size. They could not rival Sally's perfect beauty but there was a distinct and austere splendour about them, a finely crafted elegance that was just as compelling in its way.

Their combined gazes swept over Kirk and Spock, noted them, widened momentarily at such unaccustomed maleness and then dismissed them. Kirk was ever so slightly nettled; being ignored by a female was something new to him.

Through the link came an echo of understanding and also, unmistakably, laughter.

Spock was standing a pace behind Sally, quite relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back. Kirk moved to stand beside him. The leader of the four women stepped forward. Her eyes were a clear and startling shade of yellow and her voice, when she spoke, was deep and melodious.

'We welcome you, Kilsyth. May you become as a sister to us.'

'Your welcome honours me,' Sally replied, her voice graver than Kirk had ever heard it.

'The Hippolyta awaits you. Your attendants may wait for you here.'

'I would rather have them with me,' Sally said.

The woman hesitated. And shrugged. The implication was obvious. The presence of men at a council meeting was unusual, but not worth making a fuss about. After all, they were only men and as such, could be safely discounted from the proceedings.

And if Kirk had had the vaguest inkling of the events to follow, nothing, but nothing, would have torn him from the peaceful sanctuary of the plaza.

The council room was as austere as its occupants.

Cold marble benches gave no quarter to femininity. Nor did the windows, glassless and open to the elements all year round. The Hippolyta stood on a raised dais in the centre of the room and waited for them to approach her.

She was truly magnificent. Over seven feet tall, she exuded power from the top of her closely-cropped head to the naked feet planted squarely on the floor. So confident was her aura that Kirk believed she might even be able to master Spock in a test of strength.

Her eyes, aloof and distant, passed over the men and came to rest on Sally; but that second's scrutiny had held a measured interest that had not been present in her messengers' gaze.

The leader of the greeting party took up a stance on the Hippolyta's right. A second woman already stood at her left. The others took places on the marble benches.

'Sister-woman Kilsyth, you may approach and confer with the council. I am Camilla, Hippolyta to this people. My eldest daughter Rhea, heir to my throne,' she indicated the woman on her left, 'and my second daughter, Deidamia.'

Sally moved forward, leaving Kirk and Spock standing just inside the entrance. She held herself sword-straight and although she had to throw her head back to look into the Hippolyta's face, Kirk was pleased to see that she was not overpowered by the woman's character; she even managed to exude a fair amount of confidence and authority of her own. In fact, her stance seemed terribly familiar…

With a thrill of shock, Kirk suddenly realised what Sally had done. She had tuned into her link with him – and become him. Her stance, her expression, her gestures and even the intonation of her voice, all belonged to James T. Kirk.

She had no need to pretend. She _was _the captain of the 'Enterprise'.

'My advisers tell me you have a favour to ask,' Camilla said pleasantly. 'Speak it, Kilsyth.'

'Our Federation – our ruling council – has given us to understand that you have several dilithium mines on your planet.'

'Indeed we do. We use the stones in sculpture and in jewellery.'

'We also use them, to power our ships. I have been requested to ask you if you would be willing to sell us as many of the crystals as you do not use.'

'It is true that we do not need them all, and could make do with less,' the Hippolyta said thoughtfully. 'What exchange do you offer?'

'Goods that are not easily obtained on your planet, for example. What would you ask for?'

Camilla did not answer immediately. She stepped down from her dais and walked towards Kirk and Spock, with Sally following closely behind her.

-Stay calm, gentlemen. She doesn't think of you as people-

Spock kept his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes straight ahead. Kirk attempted to do the same as Camilla walked round them and studied them as if they had no more feeling than the statuary which lined the chamber walls. She nodded approvingly at Sally.

'These are fine specimens, sister-woman. Have you bred from them?'

'Not personally,' Sally responded. Kirk was annoyed to see that she looked amused.

'A pity. Still, they look virile enough…' She reached out and gripped Kirk's chin between finger and thumb, tilting his face up to the light. Kirk resisted the impulse to jerk away. He had the unpleasant suspicion he would be unable to if he tried.

-Sally, this has gone far enough-

'Please do not touch them,' Sally said immediately.

'Forgive me,' Camilla said, removing her hand. 'I forget that my customs are not those of others. You do not permit another's hand on men that are yours?'

'Not when I intend them to remain mine,' Sally replied coolly. There was a quiet challenge in her tone that Kirk did not understand but Camilla smiled as if she understood it too well.

'Sister-woman, I must consider your request. May I offer you a tour of my city while I and the council confer? We will not take long.'

'I would like that. If I may just check with my ship?'

'Of course,' Camilla said, and withdrew politely. Sally flipped open her communicator, winking at Kirk as she did so.

'Kilsyth to 'Enterprise'.'

Even the inflexions are mine, Kirk thought.

'Scott here, Captain,' the Chief Engineer's filtered voice said.

'We've been invited to tour the city. No problems. We should be ready to beam back within the hour.'

'Aye, aye, Captain,' Scott said. He sounded as if he were thoroughly enjoying the conversation.

Kirk considered telling Sally to have himself and Spock beamed back to the ship there and then. They were serving no purpose save that of curiosities and he resented leaving the mission so completely in Sally's hands, competent though they undoubtedly were. Spock, who had after all grown up in a matriarchal society, seemed to be taking it all in his stride but Kirk was feeling more than faintly resentful at the back seat he was being forced to take.

-Copping out on me, Cap'n Jim?-

-Not a chance. I wouldn't dare leave you down here alone-

-That's my boy-

'I'm ready, Hippolyta,' Sally said out loud.

'First Daughter Rhea will conduct you, Kilsyth. Your men may remain here, in the men's compound.'

'May I not have them with me?' Sally asked, looking a little disconcerted.

'Off-world men are not permitted in the city.' The tone was polite, but inflexible. 'They will be entertained.'

Sally threw an apologetic glance a Kirk and followed Rhea meekly from the council chamber.

-Sorry, gentlemen. When in Rome…-

Kirk and Spock were conducted through s long corridor hung with some of the most impressive paintings Kirk had ever seen. Most were studies of Silean women pursuing some form of sport; he could almost feel the muscles straining, hear the shouts of victory and the acclamation of the crowds. There was also a seascape in pure, glowing colours, painted with such a deft touch that a salted breeze seemed to whisper enticingly from it, and a moonrise that was nothing short of stunning.

The corridor ended in a massive door of inlaid wood and mother-of-pearl, with female guards standing to attention at either side.

'What business have you here, sister?' one of them asked their escort.

'Kilsyth is touring the city, so her men must wait here.'

'It is well. You may enter, men.' The guard swung the door smoothly open. Kirk hesitated on the threshold. The woman politely, but very firmly, took his arm and ushered him through.

'Now wait just a damn minute…' Kirk exploded, turning.

He was talking to Spock, and a closed door. The Vulcan regarded his captain calmly but there was understanding and a certain sympathy in his gaze.

'I, too, find their attitude a little overpowering, Captain.'

'Of all the arrogant, supercilious… What kind of men do they have on this planet anyway?'

'It appears we are about to find out,' Spock said, looking over Kirk's shoulder. Kirk wheeled about to face the room they had entered.

It was, as was everything they had so far seen on Penthesilea, quite beautiful. White stone, columns, a pool in the centre of the room filled with glittering gold and silver fish. There were couches of luxurious, brightly coloured silks and low tables laden with fruit and jugs of wine.

There were also bars on the windows.

'Oh my God, it's a harem,' Kirk said in an undertone.

Three of the couches were occupied and their residents rose uncertainly, looking at Kirk and Spock with curiosity.

The men of Penthesilea could not have been a greater contrast to their women. They were – not handsome, Kirk decided; that was too masculine a word to describe the physical beauty they possessed. It was a beauty made of fine-boned blondness, slim build, pale gold skin and the startling yellow eyes that seemed to be the only thing in common between the sexes.

'A most interesting evolution, Captain,' Spock murmured. 'The females have all the attributes that you commonly associate with men in your society – strength, power, stamina. And the men are as weak and fragile as you still sometimes assume your women are.'

'Complete role reversal – physically and mentally,' Kirk agreed, 'and I have to say it's giving me the creeps.'

'It does, however, appear to have been eminently successful. This is a remarkably stable society.'

The Silean men appeared to be in some doubt about what they should do with their unexpected guests. After some quiet talk and hesitation, one of them stepped forward and bowed slightly.

'Welcome. My name is Eris. Are you to join us here?'

'We're just visiting,' Kirk replied. 'I'm James Kirk and this is Mr Spock.'

'Oh, you must be attending Kilsyth. We had heard that a woman of that name was to visit Camilla. You're welcome to share our food, if you are hungry.'

Kirk thought about it and discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that he was hungry. He nodded and Eris, who seemed to be in a position of some authority, gestured to his companions to serve them.

'Please sit,' he said politely. 'May we offer you some entertainment? Music, or a game of chess?'

'How about some conversation?' Kirk suggested as he sat down and accepted some fruit. 'I'd very much like to learn more about your society and I'm sure Mr Spock would too.'

'I would indeed be most interested,' Spock agreed, shaking his head at a proffered goblet of wine. 'How do you spend your days, for instance?'

'How?' Eris looked a little startled, as if he had never considered this question before. 'Well… we have a number of recreations. We paint and sculpt. We have an extensive library which we are permitted to use freely. We write drama and perform it ourselves.'

'Is that all?' Kirk asked.

'All?' Eris smiled. His eyes travelled thoughtfully from Kirk to Spock. 'It may not seem much to you, but we are content. What we lack physically we attempt to compensate for intellectually, and I believe we succeed. You saw the paintings on the way here? Some of them are my work.'

'The moonrise,' Kirk said, with sudden certainty. 'And – the seascape?'

'Two of my finest, I have always thought. Did you like them?'

'I thought them superb. The sea view in particular – well, I am a sailor, after all. But we were led to suppose the women are the artists.'

'And so they are, in a sense. They take on the burdens of government and responsibility and allow us the freedom to create. Oh, many of them are talented artists in their own right, but they have calls on their time that we do not.'

'Don't you ever want something more out of life?' Kirk demanded.

'Captain,' Spock murmured, 'I most strongly suggest that you leave well enough alone.'

'You disapprove of us,' Eris said unerringly. 'Why? Do your women not rule?'

'I know a few who like to think they do,' Kirk replied, 'but in general, no. We work side by side, we even fight side by side. We share our lives, one sex does not rule the other.'

'But you are here as the attendants of a woman,' Eris pointed out.

Kirk's sense of humour got the better of him, and he grinned.

'That's true. But we are not subservient to her, nor she to us. We are in this compound with you because of your customs, not ours.'

Eris stood up and walked over to the pool in the centre of the room. He moved with a dancer's grace and his lovely face was pensive. He trailed his long, painter's fingers through the water and spoke to Kirk without looking at him.

'I see how it is. You think we are nothing more than pets here, caged and indulged. You despise us…'

'I am sure the captain did not intend you to think that,' Spock said.

'Did he not? Well, no matter. Equality can be many things to many people and we are happy as we are. I could imagine no other way of life. We have a perfect balance, each sex doing what it is best fitted for.'

'Mr Spock is right,' Kirk said. 'I didn't mean to imply I hold you in contempt and I don't judge you, either.'

'Please do not judge Camilla either,' Eris said, with quiet intensity. 'She is a strong woman and a proud one; she has many cares of her shoulders and she does not always find time to be conciliating.'

'It is no part of my business here to criticise your ruler,' Kirk replied. He rose and joined Eris at the pool, sitting beside him on the marble surround. Eris, who even when seated was smaller than he was, looked up at him a little ruefully. Kirk thought suddenly; this is not a weak man. He said curiously,

'Did you never wish that you could rule yourself? Never wonder if it would be possible to work together, as a team?'

'No,' Eris replied simply. 'Why should I? Captain, you proceed upon a false assumption. You believe our system discriminates against us and that we are ruled by our women against our will and inclination. I tell you now that _it is not so. _The days are long gone when the savagery outwith these walls was such that we needed protection from it with bars and guards and yet we remain here imprisoned – is that how your reasoning has gone?'

Kirk threw a helpless glance at Spock, feeling he was getting a little out of his depth. The Vulcan said,

'The captain's deduction was a logical one under the circumstances. All external evidence points to your being held captive here. Camilla herself informed us that men are not permitted in the city. She and he attendants dealt solely with our female compatriot and treated the captain and myself as if we were her possessions. Every landing party our Star Fleet has sent here has experienced this phenomenon. None of these facts point to your being valued members of the community.'

'But without us, there would be no community,' Eris said, with a sweet and vague smile.

It was the smile that finally illuminated Kirk. He had, in one of his rare moments of prejudice, been judging Eris by his own standards, assuming that because he himself would find a situation such as this intolerable then Eris was bound to feel the same. In actual fact, Eris was a member of that almost non-existent and certainly very fortunate band; that of truly contented men.

Eris, watching Kirk's face, was still wearing that vague and disconcerting smile.

'So, you understand at last, then, Captain. I have everything I could ever want. The freedom to create what, and when, I wish. No responsibilities, no pressing demands on my time. All of us are grateful to the women for giving us liberty and they do give it, freely. All that they ask in return is that we share their beds when asked – which is, after all, no hardship – and that we submit to certain small restrictions on our movements. It is a small price to pay for happiness.'

'It would be too large a price for me,' Kirk said frankly.

'Ah,' said Eris, with a slow grin that was full of humour, 'but you are different, Captain.'

Spock was regarding Kirk with an almost blank face but to Kirk, who knew him well, there was disapproval in the gaze. He crossed over to him and said,

'Something on your mind, Mr Spock?'

'Captain,' Spock said, very politely indeed, ' you could not live in this situation. I must admit that I would not care to do so either. But the Silean men and women appear to find it entirely natural – and it is their planet. I believe you are allowing your emotions to colour your judgement.'

Despite the polite tone it was a reprimand – and, Kirk was honest enough to admit, a justified one. He stared at Spock for long enough to get him worried and then grinned engagingly.

'Quite right, Mr Spock, I was. I'll endeavour not to do so again.' He waited, expecting the familiar lift of the eyebrow that was the closest Spock ever came to a smile.

It did not come. Instead, Spock's face assumed that look of absent concentration Kirk now knew meant he and Sally were communicating though their link.

'What's she up to now?' he demanded.

Spock said nothing for a few moments. He looked as if he did not believe whatever it was he had just heard. Then he said,

'Captain, the Hippolyta has given Miss Kilsyth her answer to our request for a mining treaty. She has agreed – with one condition.'

'Excellent,' Kirk got to his feet, impatient. 'Well? What are we waiting for? Let's get out of here.'

'That… might be a problem, sir. The condition is that Miss Kilsyth leaves us here. In exchange.'

'This is the gymnasium,' Rhea said. 'We come here each day to exercise. There is a swimming pool through that door,' she pointed, ' and an archery field and race track outside. Are you an athlete, sister?'

'Not to this standard,' Sally replied, watching two Sileans swing through a routine on parallel bars in perfect unison. The gymnasium had every conceivable piece of equipment an athlete could dream of and a few more besides; there was a complex frame of wood and metal, for instance, that she thought might even be a piece of sculpture.

On a sudden impulse, Sally ran across the springy floor and dived into a series of somersaults, ending with a complex back-flip Uhura had taught her. As she landed there was a smattering of applause from the spectators. Sally grinned in acknowledgment, knowing that the routine had been smooth and flowing, pleased that she had not disgraced herself in front of experts.

'That was good,' Rhea said approvingly. 'You have the makings of a gymnast, although you lack power and you are a trifle stiff. Perhaps you do not practice enough?'

'I very rarely have the time,' Sally replied truthfully.

Rhea led her through the gymnasium, past the pool and into the warm sunlight and the green splendour of the race track. There were women running, moving with a speed and muscle Sally knew she could never hope to match. They made it look easy, too, with long, effortless strides, their short tunics flowing behind them in the breeze their race created.

'I am most impressed,' Sally told Rhea. 'Your city is so peaceful and relaxed.'

'We strive for tranquillity,' Rhea replied, leading her across the grass to the centre of the track. 'We have kept ourselves apart from other species for fear that they contaminate us with their wars and their disharmony. Your Federation thinks us backwards, but this is not so, as you are about to see. We are simply not interested in what they have to offer.'

They walked across the race track, through a narrow, white-paved street and into a larger building than those Sally had yet seen. Rhea stopped on the threshold and said,

'Sister, you will be the first stranger we have permitted to enter here. You must promise not to speak of what you see.'

'You have my word,' Sally said, mystified.

As they stepped through the door, Sally instantly recognised the subdued hum of machinery – a lot of it, by the sound.

'But our Federation believes you have no interest in technology.'

'We have allowed them to think it. They leave us alone, which suits us quite well.'

Rhea flung open a door to their left and Sally followed her through it.

There were three large rooms, each connected by an archway. Sally passed slowly down the centre of the first room. She recognised a high-power scanner. A communications console. A sensor. An energy input/output regulator. Each was manned by a Silean dressed in a long blue tunic with a silver lightening bolt embroidered above the left breast.

'May I?' Sally asked, indicating the scanner, which was blank at that moment. Rhea nodded, gesturing for the woman operator to give up her place to Sally. Sally sat down, glancing over the controls to familiarise herself with their use, flashing quickly into the operator's mind to ascertain the purpose of one or two buttons she was not sure of. Then her fingers began to fly swiftly over the console, bringing a quick succession of images up on to the screen. The plaza where they had arrived. The council chamber. The men's enclosure (a quick glimpse of Kirk and Spock in deep conversation with another man). The nursery, filled with children from babies to teenagers, only two of them male. Sally flicked a switch and brought the space scanner on line. The 'Enterprise' floated into view, glimmering like a jewel in the star-studded sky.

'You are familiar with this type of machine, then, Kilsyth,' said the Hippolyta's voice behind her.

'Reasonably,' Sally said, without turning. 'Nothing compared to Spock, of course. He could run one of these things blindfolded.'

'Your men are permitted to use your computers? Are they capable?'

'Spock,' Sally replied, beginning to feel slightly nettled that Camilla could see no difference between the 'Enterprise' men and her own. 'has the finest brain of any person, man or woman, I have ever met. And Jim's not exactly stupid, either.'

'They are worth much to you, then?'

'Yes,' Sally said briefly, and did not elaborate.

'I have come to my decision. You may have your mining treaty – upon terms.'

Sally swung round in her chair. A vague tremor of disquiet began to climb up her spine.

'What terms, Hippolyta?'

'I would have your men,' Camilla said, with breath-taking simplicity.

'They are beyond price,' Sally said harshly, 'and not for sale.'

'They are only men and as such, replaceable.'

'You are not on, sister,' Sally retorted, sinking rapidly to the occasion. 'I want them back, and I want them _now._'

'I am truly sorry. I can see that they mean much to you but my need is greater, and I will have them.'

'I do not give one damn about your need,' Sally snapped, jumping to her feet with her hand going to the phaser she wore at her belt. Before she had time to draw it, Rhea's arms came round her, pinning her wrists to her sides with a vice-like strength.

'Sister, you are free to go as peacefully as you came,' Camilla told her. 'I do not understand your affection for these men but I have sympathy for it. For that reason only, I will not have you killed for attempting to draw a weapon against me. I have your men safe in the enclosure. They cannot escape and you _would_ be killed if you tried to enter. Go now.'

I am a fool, Sally thought savagely to herself. She had known something like this had been in the offing and done nothing about it; the idea had flared in Camilla's mind so briefly earlier that Sally had believed it was dismissed as impractical, that Kirk and Spock were in no danger.

She tried to imagine what Kirk would do in the same situation. The simplest solution would be to beam quietly back to the ship, home in on the link and have Scott transport Kirk and Spock out of the enclosure. The trouble was, dilithium mines were becoming rarer throughout the galaxy and Sally knew Star Fleet had been most insistent that Kirk do his utmost to obtain a treaty with Penthesilea. To abduct Kirk and Spock from under the Hippolyta's nose would scupper any notion of a treaty for the foreseeable future. She needed some honourable way to detach her men from Camilla…

As she stepped into the plaza, she found it.

She stopped dead in her tracks, causing the guards behind her to collide with one another.

'Tell the Hippolyta I must see her once more,' she said.

'It will do you no good,' one of them replied. 'She is set on keeping them.'

'Get her,' Sally said shortly. She stood legs akimbo, arms folded across her chest in a stance that Kirk would have recognised immediately. 'I don't leave until I've seen her.'

The woman who had spoken shrugged and disappeared in the direction of the council chamber.

-Keep smiling, Cap'n Jim. I'll get you out-

-Sally, I order you to go back to the ship and get us out from there. The damn treaty isn't that important-

-And you would leave me here and sneak me out later, would you?-

The silence that followed this was answer enough.

-You put me in loco captainis and I'll see it through the way you would-

-Loco would be right-

'What do you wish to say to me now, Kilsyth?'

Camilla was standing before her, barely leashed impatience on her face.

'Hippolyta, I formally challenge you to the Four Trials. If I win, you let them go.'

'What can you know of the Four Trials? Such challenge belongs to our ancient past.'

'I know enough.'

'And if you lose, sister woman?'

'I will not lose, Hippolyta.'

'I admire your confidence,' Camilla said, looking down on her with a smile, 'but the possibility does exist. I repeat – if you lose, what then?'

'Then I will leave without them.'

'Very well, I accept the challenge.' Camilla still looked highly amused. 'Prepare her and bring her to the gymnasium in an hour.'

Kirk and Spock were both trying to get through on the link.

-Sally, what the devil are you playing at?-

-Miss Kilsyth, I do not believe that heroics are called for-

-What the hell are the Four Trials anyway?-

-Shut up, both of you. I can't concentrate with all that shouting going on-

-_Sally!_-

-It's a test of skill and stamina, Jim. The two of us will compete in four events – gymnastics, archery, javelin and track. A team of judges scores us on points. The person with the most points wins-

-And would you care to tell me just how you intend to win against Camilla?-

Laughter bubbled through the link.

-Why, Jim, I'm going to cheat. What else?-

To be continued….

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

Chapter Six – Penthesilea (continued)

Eris watched as Kirk paced across the floor and Spock tested the strength of the bars across the window.

'Any luck?' Kirk asked, his pacing bringing him over to Spock's side.

'No, sir. The bars are made of high tensile steel, toughened with eryllium.'

'_Dammit!' _ Kirk slammed a hand against the bars; Eris jumped. 'I should never have come down here without a phaser!'

'We had no choice, Captain. We knew the Sileans would not allow armed men in the city.'

'We could have brought concealed weapons. We could at least have brought a communicator.'

'Sir, this incident was totally unforeseeable. Nothing in the Federation dealings with the Sileans has indicated this possibility.'

'I might have _known_ Sally would insist on doing something melodramatic,' Kirk muttered. 'Anybody else would have gone back to the ship and got us out from there.'

'_You _would not,' Spock said quietly.

Kirk came to a halt and looked at him.

'No,' he agreed. 'I wouldn't. But Sally isn't me. Hell, Spock, she's a woman!'

'You say that in the same tone Camilla would say ' he is a man',' Spock observed dispassionately. 'Jim, in this situation, Miss Kilsyth stands as much chance against Camilla as would you or I. In fact, her power will give her an enormous advantage. And she is doing exactly what you would do. She is attempting to effect a rescue without jeopardising the treaty.'

'I would still rather have rather have her safety in my hands than this way about,' Kirk snapped.

'As would I,' Spock replied calmly. 'We are primarily men of action, after all, and as such, unaccustomed to allowing anyone, man or woman, to fight our battles for us. But if it must be so, there is no other person, man or woman, to whom I would rather trust my life.'

Kirk's eyes met his.

'Nor I, Spock,' he said.

Admitted between them at last, then, that the two had become three; that if Spock would always be at Kirk's right hand then Sally would be there beside him – and Spock would allow it. Would stand back and even allow her to fight for Kirk if the need arose.

And trust her to win, because she had to.

'But if she loses?' Kirk said, voicing the unspoken.

'Camilla would seem to be an honourable woman, sir.'

'She is also,' Eris said from his couch, 'a desperate woman.'

'Explain,' Kirk demanded, wheeling on him.

'I have shared her bed many times, Captain. She has borne five children by me, one of them a son. It has made a bond between us and she does sometimes talk to me of her worries.

'Our species is dying. The women grow stronger and the men weaker with each generation. We need new blood to revive us. Camilla has been waiting for many years to gain such new blood. You are not the first men she has considered keeping – you obviously have something the others lacked.'

'Most flattering,' Spock said dryly.

'My point is, I do not believe Camilla will let you leave even if your Kilsyth does win her challenge. She may even kill to prevent it.'

There was a moment of silence. Then Kirk said,

'We've got to get out of here, Spock.'

'My thoughts exactly, Captain.'

'You'll never get out by the door or windows,' Eris said, with surprising firmness. 'Can you climb?'

'You are prepared to help us against the Hippolyta?' Spock asked.

'I can see that Camilla is wrong to keep you here against your will. I will give you what help I can. The wall round the exercise courtyard is high, but it is unguarded. Come.'

They followed him through the small open archway at the end of the room, down a short flight of stairs and through yet another archway into the open air.

'The guards on the doorway are there by custom only; I have never heard of any man trying to escape,' Eris told them.

'There is always a first time,' Kirk said grimly, eyeing the fourteen foot wall in front of him. 'Spock, if we push that wooden frame under the wall, it should give us enough height for me to boost you up, and you can haul me up after.'

'I wish you luck, Captain. Kilsyth must be a very special woman.'

'Yes,' said Kirk. 'She is.'

Sally had been bathed, massaged and oiled. Her hair had been coaxed into dozens of tiny plaits and coiled tightly round her head. She had been dressed in a short white tunic with a blue edge that left both arms bare for action; and now she faced Camilla across the gymnasium floor.

'You are still determined on the challenge, Kilsyth?'

'I am.'

'We will be judged by our sisters Deinara, Pallassa and Charia. They have been sworn to fairness by the most solemn oaths. Are you satisfied?'

'I am satisfied.'

'Then the challenge will commence.'

Camilla stood back. Pallassa spoke.

'The contest will begin with the isometric bars. Two minutes of free exercise. The Hippolyta will commence.'

Camilla strode across the floor and dipped her hands into the chalk powder. She jumped up to the top bar, which was over twelve feet from the floor, without assistance.

Bugger, thought Sally after the first twenty seconds. She is bloody good.

Strength and power combined with an effortless grace sent Camilla sailing over, under and between the bars. If Sally had not had to beat that performance, she would have enjoyed it immensely. How in the name of all that was holy did she manage to hang above the top bar as if suspended in the air? And the twist between upper and lower bars; Sally had been trying to perfect that move for years. It seemed almost a shame to spoil it…

Behind her back, unseen, Sally's fingers snapped together.

The lower bar trembled. It was almost imperceptible but it was enough for Camilla's reaching hands to misjudge the distance and for one to slip. There was a gasp from the assembled audience as she hung there one-handed, momentarily off balance; then she recovered herself with a calmness that Sally could not help but admire and finished her routine without further incident.

'Seven,' the judges announced, after a short discussion. 'Kilsyth may begin.'

Sally stood under the top bar, looking at it for a moment. Then she jumped. And reached it effortlessly.

Thank God for Spock, she thought; Spock, who had insisted she keep up with her training, had made her practice and perfect until she could have threaded a needle two miles away with her mind. And for Uhura, who had made her work out in the gym twice weekly, often hauling her out of bed (not always her own) in the early mornings and marching her firmly down the corridor. Without that regular exercise of body and mind, she could not have done it; floated through a routine which was part gymnastic and part sheer telekinetic movement, kept the control of all the elements together so that it seemed flawless and natural and above suspicion. I must remember to thank them, and I will never grouse at either of them again. At least, not so much.

She spun backwards from the lower bar to the top, a move that made the assembled Sileans gasp, balanced upright one-handed on the top bar for what seemed like ever, then spun round on that one arm, caught the bar with both hands and triple somersaulted to the floor, landing without a tremor. The audience burst into spontaneous applause and Camilla looked quite thunderous.

There was a prolonged consultation among the judges. Then –

'Ten,' Deinara pronounced, not without an apologetic look at her queen. Camilla walked over to Sally, looking at her with a great deal more interest that she had up to this point.

'You have been most modest,' she said dryly. 'I had no idea you were so skilled.'

'It's amazing what you can do when you have to,' Sally replied truthfully. 'What's next?'

'Miss Kilsyth has won the gymnastic event,' Spock reported to Kirk.

'That's my Sally,' Kirk replied, looking cautiously round the corner into the street before them. 'Coast's clear. C'mon, Spock.'

Spock started to follow his captain round the corner and then halted abruptly, grasping Kirk's arm so that he stopped, too.

'Listen, Captain! Computers – and several of them, by the sound.'

Kirk waited and then heard the low hum the Vulcan's more sensitive hearing had picked up. He looked back at Spock, seeing the same idea flare into being between them.

'If they have some sort of communications device…'

'We can contact the 'Enterprise'…'

'And get us all out of here in one piece. I like your way of thinking, Mr Spock. Let's go.'

They ran, crouching, across the deserted street, making for the house that Sally had entered not two hours before.

The hallway was empty but through the open arch of the control room they could see a lone woman, tapping instructions into a console. Kirk jerked his head in her direction and cocked an eyebrow at Spock. The Vulcan nodded.

Kirk walked boldly through the archway, leaving Spock concealed in the hall. The woman did not look up. He said,

'Excuse me. I'm looking for the communications centre. Can you help?'

She did not deign to reply. She simply reached out a hand, grasped his shirt front and proceeded to frogmarch him out of the door. As they reached it, Spock's hand snaked upwards towards her shoulder.

With one hand still twisted in Kirk's shirt, she swung the other back in a blow that would have toppled any man but Spock. As it was the Vulcan staggered, something Kirk had never seen happen before. Kirk lashed out with his feet, trying to tip her off balance, kicking with a strength that must surely have bruised her.

She did not even sway.

Kirk aimed a roundhouse punch at her chin. She shrugged it off and stretched out her free hand to grip Spock by the throat. Spock slashed the blade of his hand towards her larynx as Kirk threw himself forward against her, hoping that his weight would bring her down.

She fell at last, choking. Spock attempted the neck pinch again and this time, succeeded.

Kirk hauled himself to his feet, a somewhat rueful smile on his face.

'Tough lady,' he remarked.

'Yes, sir. Most interesting.'

Spock walked into the control room, looking around him curiously. Kirk followed after a moment; some innate courtesy prompted him to move the Silean to a more comfortable position first.

Spock moved down the room between the gleaming console ranks.

'Captain, this is fascinating,' he said. 'The equipment is most impressive, certainly on a par if not excelling anything the Federation has to offer. Yet the Sileans have always led us to suppose they have no interest in our technology, although it was always obvious they had the intelligence and the means to produce it.' He passed through the archway into the other two rooms and came back to Kirk after a minute or so. 'No weapons systems,' he commented.

'Really?' Kirk was momentarily distracted from the business at hand. 'So that much is true. I wonder why they've never developed anything more deadly than bows and arrows?'

'If the weapons do not exist,' Spock said, 'then the temptation to use them does not exist either.'

'True… Ah, there's the comm console. Can you handle it?'

Spock seated himself, running his long fingers swiftly over the controls.

'Range set… frequency set… you can go ahead now, sir.'

Kirk leaned over Spock's shoulder towards the speaker and said,

'Kirk to 'Enterprise'. Come in, Scott…'

A large female hand came down on the control switch and flicked it off contemptuously.

'You are resourceful,' Rhea said, as Kirk turned to face her. For all her size, she moved like a cat; not even Spock had heard her approach. 'Camilla was right to keep you. You will be a valuable addition to the breeding stock. However, this type of behaviour will not be tolerated. It must cease.'

'Lady,' Kirk told her, 'we haven't even begun.'

She looked down on him thoughtfully. No male had ever thus defied her, or managed to cause such a problem. Nor did he seem cowed by her displeasure. In fact, he returned her gaze defiantly and there was arrogance in his bearing.

Unprecedented.

'Camilla must deal with you,' she announced. 'Come.'

On the archery range, Sally picked up her bow – and almost dropped it again. It was almost as tall as she was and very, very heavy. Camilla, watching her out of the corner of her eye, said politely, but with a suggestion of arrogance,

'We have a smaller version that the men use, if you would prefer it.'

'This one is perfect, thank you,' Sally said, smiling through gritted teeth. That superior attitude meant that Sally was determined not only to win back her men but beat Camilla thoroughly into the bargain. Her temper, always precariously under control at the best of times, was rising under the implication the challenge was a farce to be concluded as soon as possible, so that Camilla could get back to more serious matters. Well, Camilla had received one shock already and she was about to receive another.

The target had been positioned at two hundred feet, a range that obviously favoured the larger and more powerful Silean woman. Camilla took up her stance at the line, feet planted squarely on the grass, and brought the arrow up to her shoulder. The muscled arms flexed.

'Field is clear. Loose!' Pallassa said.

The arrow sped straight and true.

Sally snapped her fingers idly against the string of her bow, testing its tension.

Camilla's arrow nicked the edge of the gold. For a moment, she looked surprised. Then she walked back to Sally with a glance that clearly said, 'Beat that.'

Sally strode to the line, slipped the arrow into place and waited with her bow pointed down.

'Field is clear. Loose!'

Sally brought the bow up in a blur of speed and released the arrow. It seemed to burn the air as it flew, flashing in the sun, until it buried itself deep in the exact centre of the gold.

This time, the gasps were louder. Even if Camilla won the next two challenges, it would still be a tie. Camilla herself remained silent but eyed Sally consideringly. Sally returned the measured gaze calmly.

And suddenly she knew. They were not playing a game of any sort. It was deadly serious.

Win or lose, Camilla would kill to keep Kirk and Spock.

Sally threw her bow down at Camilla's feet in a defiant gesture.

'Let us have it spoken,' she said. 'What do you intend?'

'What I have always intended. I have made no secret of it. To keep them.'

'At what price?' Sally asked, very quietly.

'At any price,' was the even response. 'And you? What do you intend, Kilsyth?'

'To get them back – at any price. Shall we dispense with the rest of the challenge? It's a travesty. If I lost, you counted on my honour to leave without them. If I had won, you would have killed me before you let them go. Yes?'

'I do not know how you discovered it,' Camilla said, not one whit disconcerted, 'but yes. I bear you no animosity. I have tried to tell you how desperate my need is. I thought that, as a sister, you might understand enough to let them go.'

'They are not mine to dispose of. But they are mine to fight for!'

As she spoke, a stave left lying on the ground by a woman who had stopped practicing to watch them flew upwards into her hands. Sally advanced towards Camilla.

'Defend yourself, Hippolyta,' she said, through her teeth, 'because one of us is most certainly going to die for them.'

Camilla, momentarily rooted to the spot in astonishment, did not move. Sally, fighting for three lives, could not afford to be play by rules. She swung the stave upwards, hard, and struck Camilla on the side of her head with all her strength. Camilla fell, heavily. Deinara and Pallassa started towards Sally and she swung round to face them, holding her stave at the ready. As she did so, she saw Rhea at the far end of the sports field, grappling with a Kirk who seemed possessed by the strength of the desperate; saw Spock streaking silently across the grass to her side, power in every stride.

Despite the odds, Sally grinned.

Kirk, Spock and the T'Aramu. Whatever the outcome, the three of them would stand together and see it through.

Still smiling, she sent the stave skimming across the surface of the field. It tangled between the feet of the two coming towards her and they went down in a confused mass of arms and legs.

Rhea struck Kirk a resounding blow on the side of the head and knocked him down. She began to run to Camilla's aid. Kirk reached out from his prone position and grasped her ankle. She fell.

Camilla clambered to her knees, blood streaming from a cut on her head, reaching for the bow and arrows Sally had flung at her feet.

As she aimed it, Spock kicked it out of her hands.

More women were pouring out of the gymnasium. Kirk, having finally succeeded in putting Rhea out of action, was making for Spock and Sally, stopping only to pick up a stave for himself.

Spock and Sally found themselves standing back to back as a circle of Sileans closed in on them.

'Spock, we are _deeply _in the shit.'

'If I understand you correctly, I agree. And if I might make a suggestion…'

'Way ahead of you. Here goes.'

She snapped the fingers of both hands – even in this dire extremity, Spock noted, she could not refrain from the unnecessary dramatic flourish – and the turf around them began to roll up like a carpet, tearing a circle forty feet wide as it knocked Sileans down like ninepins.

'Nice work, Sally,' Kirk said, arriving at a run. 'Did they take your communicator and phaser from you?'

'When they dressed me for the challenge, yes,' Sally replied grimly. 'They're on their way. Should be here in a couple…' She broke off abruptly, jerking her head round, and a spear that had been flying their way fell to the ground like a stone.'

'That spear might prove useful, Miss Kilsyth,' Spock commented.

'True. Apologies for the blond moment – Spock, I'll explain that colloquialism to you later – here it comes.' The spear snaked its way through the grass and Kirk stooped to pick it up. Its heaviness felt comforting in his grasp.

Camilla's women had fallen back to regroup and more re-enforcements were arriving by the minutes. About a hundred of them now surrounded the 'Enterprise' party.

But they did not attack.

They stood, hesitating, keeping their distance. It might have been fear of the strange powers that Sally possessed, or amazement that a man had dared to lift a hand against them, but something was holding them back.

'Jim.' Sally said suddenly. She sounded highly amused, though personally Kirk could see nothing humourous about their situation. 'Did you by any small chance happen to hold forth on the equality of the sexes when you were in that enclosure?'

'Well, I might have said a few things until someone pointed out the error of my ways,' Kirk replied, with a glance at Spock. 'Why?'

'Because it seems to have had an effect.' Sally started to giggle.

'Sally, your sense of humour crops up at the most insane times…' Kirk tailed off, bemused, as his eyes followed her pointing finger.

Eris and three other men were walking across the ruined race-track towards Camilla. They looked singularly unimpressive and extremely scared, but they kept coming and the sight of them had their women rooted to the spot.

Sally stretched up a hand and plucked her communicator and phaser from the air. She held them out to Kirk.

'Do we leave the party quietly, Captain?'

'No,' Kirk said slowly, slipping the communicator on to his belt and keeping hold of the phaser. 'No. I'd like to see what happens next.'

'Excellent, me too.'

Eris walked straight up to Camilla, his companions staying in a nervous bunch behind him. Camilla looked stunned, more taken aback by this than she had been by any of Sally's displays.

'Camilla.' Eris said. His voice shook but he ploughed bravely on. 'You must not do this.'

'How dare you tell _me_ what I must not do?' Camilla demanded incredulously.

'A man, perhaps, but I have a heart and mind too. These men will never be content with our way of life. I have spoken with them. They would rather die than submit to you. I have heard them speak of Kilsyth with affection and seen her fight to keep them. They have shown me new things and not the least of these is that it is possible for men and women to care for one another. For the love they bear each other, I beg you – let them go.'

Camilla looked at Sally, standing wide-eyed and silent between Kirk and Spock.

'Is it possible, then, Kilsyth,' she asked, in a tone of wonder, 'to love a man?'

'If they are men such as these?' Sally placed one hand on Kirk's shoulder and the other on Spock's. 'Camilla, it is not only possible. It is imperative.'

'And they? Do they _dare_… to love you?'

Kirk took Sally's hand from his shoulder and held it firmly. Spock, of course, did not go that far but he permitted her hand to stay where it was.

'We are three who will dare anything.' It was Kirk who answered Camilla. Her eyes narrowed but her face remained quite impassive; Kirk thought she had probably received so many shocks that it was almost impossible for her to register a reaction. 'We stand before you united. Will you try to keep us… now?'

Camilla's shoulders slumped.

'If I let you go, my planet will die. I am Hippolyta, and I must do what it best for my people.' She looked at Sally, still standing with her hand enclosed in Kirk's. 'And yet… you could have taken them from me. You had no need to challenge. You could take them now and I could not stop you. Why do you not do so?'

'First,' Sally said, watching Kirk, 'because I haven't been told to.' She saw that remark sink in, as she had meant it to, saw it finally dawn on Kirk that as he held Spock's greater intellect and strength under his command, so did he hold Sally's power, because she trusted him. 'Second, because we need that mining treaty – just not badly enough to exchange lives for it. And third, because if we don't convince you now that what you want to do is wrong, you may try it with someone else who can't defend themselves as we can.'

'What can you know of the despair that has driven me to this? I am watching my planet die, Kilsyth, and I cannot stop it unless you give me help.'

'I have a suggestion,' Kirk said. 'Do I have the Hippolyta's permission to state it?'

'What difference does my permission make to you?' Camilla said dryly. 'However, you may speak.'

'If you agree to the mining treaty, we can arrange to have a small team installed here to supervise operations. I'm sure we can find men who would be willing to provide the.. ah… services you require, as long as they are free to leave when they wish.'

A gleam of hope lightened Camilla's expression, but she said swiftly,

'They must be sworn to non-interference. We have seen the result of societies where men are given free rein. War. Killing. Discord. The natural balance destroyed.'

'If you allow yourself a little more contact with our people,' Kirk said, 'you will find that we care as little for war as you do. And all of us are bound by solemn oath not to interfere in your planet's business.'

-Although some of us choose to sail a super-starship through that one, don't we? Oh, well, at least it doesn't look like I'm going to have to die defending your virtue-

Kirk's mouth twitched slightly but he made no other sign that he had heard her. Eris walked lightly across the grass and touched Camilla's hand.

'Please,' he said. 'I regret that I cannot be of more use to you. I regret that you must seek other breeding stock at all. But if it must be done, then choose the way the captain has suggested.'

'She has suggested nothing,' Camilla said sharply. 'Only the man has spoken.'

'Dammit, I was hoping that little item wasn't going to come up,' Sally said ruefully. 'Oh, well, it was nice while it lasted. I'm not really the captain, Camilla – at least, not yet. He is.' She tilted her head in Kirk's direction and he tried not to feel too insulted at the comic look of disbelief on Camilla's face.

'Hippolyta, I'd like to get back to my ship. What do you say?'

Camilla looked at Eris.

'It seems I have no choice… Captain. Very well. I agree to your terms.'

Kirk heaved a sigh and flipped open the communicator.

'Kirk to 'Enterprise'. Beam us up, Mr Scott.'

After a long and complex call to Fleet headquarters, Kirk beamed back down to Penthesilea with Spock, Sally and a contingent of security (just in case). The treaty he took with him had to have one of the strangest forms of any yet signed by the Federation and another planet – but it _was _signed.

And when he beamed back to the 'Enterprise' he had under his arm, very carefully wrapped, the seascape, which had been presented to him by the artist 'to remember your day among us'.

Later that evening, Kirk went in search of the other two members of the landing party. He found them in the Rec Room, playing chess.

'Who's winning?' he asked, pulling up a chair. The sight of Spock and Sally playing chess together always amused him, and puzzled him a little, since she was still an appalling player by any standards and invariably lost.

'I am,' Sally replied, much to his surprise. Spock made his move. 'He is,' she added crossly, glaring at the offending chess piece. 'That was really devious, Spock.'

Spock raised both eyebrows.

'Hardly. It was the only logical move and you should have anticipated it.'

'Perhaps her mind isn't on the game,' Kirk suggested.

'Probably it isn't,' Sally agreed, 'but I still say it was devious. Check.'

'Mate,' Spock said, after an embarrassingly small interval.

'Bugger,' was Sally's verdict. 'I will never play you again. Could I have some coffee, please?'

Spock got up and went over to the food selector. While he was gone, Kirk said,

'That was quite a performance you gave today, Sally.'

'Which one?' Sally asked, leaning back in her chair and looking at him quizzically. 'Captain of the 'Enterprise', or all round athlete, or super-heroine?'

'Sally,' Kirk said, with a very straight face, 'if you expect compliments for doing no more than you're paid for, you can just think again. Quite aside from anything else, you disobeyed orders and took unnecessary risks.'

'Well, I like that!' Sally exclaimed, bouncing upright and going scarlet with indignation.

'And you were wonderful,' Kirk said, relenting.

'Wasn't I though?' She relaxed again, smiling complacently. She wore her brocade robe, its heavy skirts sweeping the floor. With the tight braids she had worn for her contest with Camilla brushed out and her hair falling to her waist in a mass of tiny waves instead of the usual unruly curls, she looked like a renaissance portrait stepped out of its frame; beautiful and fragile as porcelain. The fragility was misleading, of course. She was as strong a woman as Kirk had ever met, with a heart of steel in her that had enabled her to deal with all the tragedies her life had so far contained.

To his shame – and it was a reflection he kept severely to himself – Kirk had more than once wondered why it was someone so lovely had chosen a life which was dangerous, sometimes bloody and almost always frenetic. It had brought her a great deal of pain one way and another and the carefree girl Kirk had first met was gone forever now. There was an expression of maturity on the face beside him, an occasional sadness in repose which had not been there before. Adolescence had given way to womanhood as it always must, but something in Kirk had not wanted to see it die.

Yet she still had the same sparkling sense of humour, still made people laugh and relax when she was with them, still treated everyone she met with the same warmth and ready affection. When they were alone together there was a surprising quality of restfulness about her, a willingness to listen and understand and support him. The tragedy of Taishun's death had not quenched her fiery joy for living; she still dispensed her favours with enthusiasm, grasped at life with no thought for tomorrow.

Why it seemed so much worse for Sally to suffer Kirk did not know. He himself, after all, had been through much worse and had accepted it, if not always in his stride, then at least as a consequence of the life he had freely chosen. Well, Sally had freely chosen too and Kirk could only suppose that it was some last vestige of chauvinism in him which made him feel a woman as beautiful as Sally should drift through her life without a problem to beset her.

'And how very boring that would be,' Sally said softly, stretching out a hand to him. 'Jim, my dear, do you think I don't know why you love me? But little sisters have to grow up and big brothers can't always protect them, no matter how much they would like to… There is not one moment in my life I would change. All of my memories are precious to me, even the sad ones. No-one can be a real human being without sorrow, Jim; how else could we know and treasure the happy times?'

Kirk kissed the hand folded around his.

'Sally, you are an extraordinary woman.'

'Ah, no,' Sally protested, laughing. 'Just a woman, Cap'n Jim. Just a woman.'

Spock came back to the table in time to hear this last remark.

'You do realise, Captain,' he said, seating himself and passing Sally's cup over to her, 'that if we return to find Penthesilea a patriarchal society, it will have been entirely your doing?'

'I don't think we will,' Kirk replied. 'A society as established as theirs doesn't change overnight and in any case, neither sex apparently wanted it to. As you repeatedly pointed out, Mr Spock, they were quite happy with the situation.'

'_Did_ he?' Sally asked, interested. 'Did you approve of that set-up, Spock?'

'It had a certain logical order to it,' Spock admitted. 'And we are not permitted to attempt to alter a planet's evolutionary course.'

'Penthesilea is not evolving,' Kirk said. 'It is stagnating.'

Sally absently sent her cup cartwheeling across the room. She said,

'Listen, Spock, I know you've visited lots more planets that I have…'

'He couldn't very well have visited fewer,' Kirk murmured. Sally chose to ignore him.

'… and therefore know a lot more than I do about evolution and alien societies…'

'Which will not stop her giving _her _opinion, all the same,' Kirk said.

'… but I would just like to point out their present course will lead them to extinction in the next generation or so…'

'Failing an act of God, or Sally Kilsyth,' Kirk added.

McCoy had just entered and was heading towards them, coffee in hand.

'… and if you think that's a good thing I can't agree with you.' Sally finished. As the words left her mouth, McCoy's cup shot out of his hand and hurtled perilously across the room, coming to rest directly above Kirk's head. Without the slightest change of expression, Sally remarked, 'Open your mouth again, Kirk, and I promise you'll be wearing that.'

'Hey, I'm suffering from caffeine withdrawal,' McCoy complained, grabbing his cup back. 'May I join in, or is this a private fight?'

'It's not a fight, it's a discussion,' Sally responded, with dignity.

'Then carry on, don't mind me.' McCoy sat down. 'What are you… discussing?'

'Miss Kilsyth is of the opinion that the Silean society is in need of change,' Spock said.

'If he calls me Miss Kilsyth one more time, I'll scream,' Sally announced.

'It is your name,' Spock said, looking puzzled.

'So it is, and if I ever get to be sixty and respectable, I may decide to use it. At the moment I am neither, and I prefer to be called Sally. Or if that's too informal, my given name is Sarah. How about that?'

'Stop changing the subject, it was getting interesting. I promise not to interrupt again – at least, not until McCoy's finished his coffee.' Kirk said.

Sally laughed. Her eyes were starry with mischief. She seemed to enjoy her clashes with Spock, although her darting train of thought was rarely able to defeat his calm logic.

'Look, Spock… I did have the chance to do some observing down there too. Camilla may be single-minded in her aims, but she is not stupid. It is bound to occur to her eventually that the way the men have been kept subjugated is partly responsible for the decline in their society. The only way to save it is to start educating everyone towards equality.'

'You are grossly over-simplifying, as usual,' Spock replied calmly. 'Equality, or the lack of it, was only part of the problem. The physical degeneration of the male sex was the dominant factor…'

Kirk traded glances with McCoy. They rose as one man and retreated to a quiet table in the corner of the room.

'She'll never win an argument with Spock,' McCoy said, with a chuckle. 'I believe that is my sole prerogative.'

'Maybe not, but she'll go blue in the face trying. A very valiant lady, my Sally.'

'Bloody-minded is the expression that springs to my mind, Jim. I guess the end result is the same.'

'Shall we go and get something to eat? I'm hungry.'

'Hmm?' McCoy murmured, sipping absently at his coffee. His eyes were on Sally and Spock. Kirk turned round to see what was holding his attention and saw nothing unusual. Spock was sitting quietly, relaxed, with his hands folded on the table in front of him. Sally had risen and was pacing to and fro in front of him, hair blazing in streaks of red and gold, robe sweeping the floor. Her hands were making extravagant gestures in the air.

'What's so interesting?' Kirk demanded.

'Look at the two of them,' McCoy said quietly. 'Have you ever seen two people who were more unalike?'

'No,' Kirk admitted. 'So what's new?'

'I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that our Sally might just be the making of Spock. She can teach him more about human and female emotions with one flick of her finger than you or I could in years of debate.'

'I hardly think there's much Spock doesn't know about emotions by this time. Unless you have something else in mind?'

'Maybe,' McCoy said enigmatically.

Kirk stared at him, dumbfounded.

'You can't possibly mean… Spock – and _Sally_? Have you run a Sigmund on yourself recently? Because I think you're out of your mind.'

'Not at all,' McCoy replied, unperturbed. 'Have you _ever_ seen Spock treat any woman the way he treats Sally? Don't get me wrong, it's not obvious. But to a trained observer like myself,' he gave a self-depreciating cough, 'the signals are there. He works out with her. He plays chess with her – and she's a bloody awful opponent, as you know, she's never come close to winning a game with him. He writes music for her. He's learned to play up to her, the way he does with you. They spend a lot of time together. Watch them sometime, Jim. And count how many times your contact-aversive First Officer lets her touch him.' He leaned back in his chair with the air of one who has just produced a large white rabbit from a very empty hat.

'Bones,' Kirk said, unconvinced, while wondering what grapevine it was that supplied McCoy with his information, ' you're an incorrigible gossip. Besides, none of that proves a thing. Sally and he just happen to be…' he broke off, annoyed with himself, but McCoy bent forward and asked, almost soundlessly,

'Linked?'

For the second time in three minutes, Kirk found himself speechless. Eventually he said,

'How long have you known?'

'For sure? Since Sally did her rescue act for you on Darlas' planet. I was with them in the transporter room when Sally got through to you. Spock knew she'd done it; he was telling her he wouldn't let her come before she'd even opened her mouth. Sally just got on to the transporter platform and looked at him. Five seconds later, Spock gave the co-ordinates to Kyle. I wondered then – and when you told me about you and her, it was clear they had to be linked too. So. That's the clincher, Jim, the last piece of the puzzle.'

'In what way?'

'T'Pring,' McCoy said, as if he expected Kirk to find that answer comprehensible.

'T'Pring?' Kirk repeated. 'How does she come into it?'

'She doesn't, that's the whole point.' Kirk continued to look at him blankly. McCoy sighed. 'Spock hasn't bonded with any other Vulcan woman since. So what's he gonna do in the next Pon Farr? You were there, Jim. You know the link plays a part in the Vulcan mating ritual.'

'Yes, but…' Kirk stopped. The argument was actually beginning to sound convincing. 'I admit I hadn't made that connection. Do you think I should warn Sally? Given her record, I'm sure she would – oblige – in those circumstances but that doesn't mean…'

'I'd be surprised if they haven't already discussed it.'

'You think? Even so, I'd have said she was the last woman in the galaxies to appeal to Spock. And she certainly isn't in love with him.'

'Not yet, maybe. But I suspect Spock will wait.'

'Wait for what? Sally to sleep with everyone in Star Fleet?'

'No,' McCoy said patiently, 'although, okay, that might happen. For Sally to grow up.'

'Will she ever? When did she have a relationship with someone that lasted more than two seconds?'

'Look who's talking. May I point out that the only relationship we know of which _did_ last longer was with a telepath of Vulcan stock? Trust your local doctor, Jim. I'd lay money down on this.'

'Jim!' Sally shrieked from across the room, with a stamp of her foot. 'Come here this instant and tell this pompous Vulcan his argument is based on an entirely false premise!'

Kirk sighed, stood up and leaned over the table.

'I'll take that bet, Bones. Those two won't end up even speaking to each other.'

'You're on. A month's pay. I look forward to spending it.'

22


	7. Chapter 7

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER SEVEN – ANKARDA

Although he couldn't take McCoy's prediction seriously, Kirk found that the idea, ridiculous though it was, could not be easily dismissed. Every time he thought he had finally rid his mind of the notion, something happened to make him consider McCoy might not be so far wrong after all.

Spock's quick, searching look when he entered a room – and the almost imperceptible chagrin if Sally was not there.

The way he allowed her to tease him, even encouraging her sometimes; and she, knowing how great a privilege she had been given, was never petty, never hurtful with her humour, quizzing him gently and with affection, not as robust as she was with Kirk and McCoy.

Noticing how often they were together and how rarely there was need for words between them. How Spock so frequently anticipated her wishes, and how serenely she took his forethought for granted. Work or play, there was a harmony of spirit about them which was subtle and yet all-embracing. Even those who found the Vulcan intimidating were more relaxed in his presence if Sally was by his side.

And… McCoy had been right about the physical contact between them. Not that Kirk thought this was particularly indicative of Sally's feelings, at least, because she was forever holding hands, or hugging and kissing even the vaguest acquaintances. But Spock had always held aloof from the smallest touch. Kirk knew this was because, as a touch-telepath, the flood of emotions accompanying any contact was most unwelcome, and also because touch was just not part of the Vulcan culture. The closest Kirk had ever seen a Vulcan come to any kind of embrace was the crossed finger salute shared by Spock's parents.

But when he did begin to watch Spock and Sally together, he was quite staggered to see how often there was contact between them. Her hand would brush against his as he handed her coffee, or paperwork. She would stand leaning over him, one hand on his shoulder, as they discussed music. When they sat together talking (or, more frequently, arguing) Sally's finger would lightly tap his knee as she made a point. He was fairly certain that Sally wasn't aware of doing anything extraordinary. He was also certain that he never once saw Spock flinch, or object.

No-one but McCoy – who was, after all, a confirmed people and especially Spock watcher – seemed to have noticed a thing. Indeed, if the woman involved had been anyone other than Sally, Kirk himself might have become aware of the extraordinary rapport that seemed to be growing between them sooner. But Sally was so physically affectionate with everyone that Kirk would probably have wondered more if she _hadn't_ included Spock.

After two or three weeks of wrestling with the issue, he decided to leave well enough alone. He thought Spock had a friend in Sally, which was a good thing. Anything else… anything else was just out of the question.

'Miss Kilsyth, I am afraid I cannot make out this word in the fourth line of your report,' Spock said accusingly.

Sally glanced at the sheet of paper covered in the wide and lazy scrawl she called writing.

'Hyperspatiallysensitive,' she announced, after squinting at it for some seconds. 'At least, I think so.'

'Miss Kilsyth, I fail to understand why it is that you insist on giving me reports in longhand when it would be simpler – and in view of your manual efforts, more desirable – to feed your notes through the computer and obtain a print-out.'

'For the same reason I read books made of paper. Twenty-first century girl, remember? Anyway,' she added smugly, ' it's damn good, isn't it?'

'The content is certainly impressive,' Spock admitted reluctantly, 'and you have at least refrained from scattering it with the colloquialisms which you use so frequently in verbal communications. The quality, however, would be much improved if you could restrain your impulse to transcribe in it hieroglyphics.'

'Stand still, Spock,' Sally advised him, losing patience, 'because I am about to hit you a very sharp blow on the nose.'

Kirk, who had been listening to this altercation with a great deal of silent amusement – it certainly appeared as if Spock was actively baiting her - judged it time to intervene. He grasped Sally's arm firmly and hauled her into the seat beside him.

'Sit. Stay,' he commanded.

'Why would you wish to perpetrate such an attack?' Spock asked, aggrieved. 'Surely the most logical action would be to improve that part of your work which is unsatisfactory, thus removing the cause of the complaint which is annoying you…'

'Oh, _please_ let me hit him,' Sally said to Kirk.

'Certainly not,' Kirk replied. 'Striking a superior officer is a court-martial offence and I don't have the time or the energy to organise one at the moment. Give it up, Mr Spock. This is obviously one of her less logical days.'

'I was not aware,' Spock said, very politely, as he left, 'that Miss Kilsyth has ever, at any time, behaved in a manner rational enough to be designated as 'logical'.

'Hmm, that was a nasty crack,' Sally remarked as the door closed behind him.

'And you deserved it,' Kirk told her. 'Why do you insist of arguing with him when you know perfectly well he'll always have the last word?'

'C'mon, Jim, Spock loves it when I act up. One of his greatest joys is waiting for me to say something outrageous so he can feel superior to the poor, illogical, emotional, human woman.'

'You understand him very well,' Kirk said softly.

'Well, of course,' Sally said, a little dryly. 'How's your chess game going?'

This sidelining was typical; Kirk had noticed that she would never discuss Spock, not even with him.

'Badly. I do think this time he might actually win. Any ideas?' He said this without much hope, since Sally's chess had always been of the impulsive rather than considered kind. She glanced over at the chess board.

'He's using the V'Silk/T'Ranu defence. Mate in three. Move your pawn next, then the knight to queen's level 2. That should do it.'

Kirk stared at her. She met his gaze steadily, but there was a faint colour on her cheeks.

'Close your mouth, Jim. You're catching flies.'

'I always wondered how someone so intelligent could play chess so badly. You _cheat_. You _let _him win.'

'Oh, not at first. I've memorised over 500 grand master games since – it's difficult to cheat convincingly if you don't actually understand chess.'

'Why?'

'Because somebody human ought to let him win – and I'm the one with no macho pride. Don't tell him.'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' Kirk said. One more bit of the puzzle, he thought, and I have no idea where it fits or what the picture is.

'When are we picking up the Federation Ambassador?' asked Sally, changing the subject.

'Tomorrow, worse luck.'

'Why, Cap'n Jim, I do believe you aren't looking forward to this mission.'

'Our previous encounters with the species have not been particularly happy,' Kirk explained. 'And this one sounds like she's a real pain in the… neck.'

'Oh, don't mind your language because of me,' Sally said, visibly amused. 'Anyway, how do you work that one out? Eowyn has one of the best records in the fleet.'

'That's exactly what I mean,' Kirk said glumly, and then blinked. 'Do you know her?'

'We have met once or twice.'

'Give, then. What's she like?'

'You're the expert on ambassadors, Cap'n Jim. Guess.'

'Fortyish,' Kirk decided, after a moment. 'Dark – they always are – unmarried, precise in speech and dress and a stickler for regulations. Probably very plain.'

Sally was silent.

'Well?'

'It's a damn good thing we didn't have a bet on it,' she finally replied, getting up from the table.

'I knew it,' Kirk said, in a resigned tone. 'Okay, then, Miss Kilsyth, since you're acquainted with her I hereby delegate you to show her round and keep her entertained. I intend to be otherwise engaged for the whole of her stay.

'Aye, aye, sir,' Sally said demurely. The link was silent but the expression on her face would have told him immediately she was up to mischief – if he had looked at her. Which, unfortunately, he did not.

The 'Redemption', the ship bringing Ambassador (First Class) Eowyn Randall to her rendezvous with the 'Enterprise' was on time to the minute. Politeness required Kirk to attend in the transporter room and formally welcome her aboard so attend he did, along with Spock, McCoy, Scott and Sally. His intention was to get the ordeal over and done with so that he could escape to the bridge. This underwent a rapid change when the form of Eowyn Randall actually appeared on the platform.

Her hair was red – not the blazing shade that Sally possessed, but the colour of beech trees in fall, with flecks of gold and deeper red, springing in peaks from her forehead and curling round her head. The little heart-shaped face was sprinkled with tiny freckles as were the arms and shoulders rising from her simple, cream dress. Her eyes, wide and slanted slightly upwards at the corners, were a deep, tawny brown and the generous mouth was tinted a voluptuous pink. She was small, barely reaching to Kirk's shoulder, but her figure was splendidly proportioned.

Kirk drew a very deep breath and stepped forward.

'Ambassador…' The word came out as a croak. Behind him, Sally was shaking with silent mirth. Kirk cleared his throat and tried again.

'Ambassador Randall, welcome aboard. It's a great pleasure to meet you.' The enthusiasm in his voice was unmistakable and she acknowledged the tribute it implied with a slight bow.

'Thank you, Captain Kirk. I might say that I have been looking forward to meeting a man who has the reputation of being both soldier and diplomat.' The eyes beneath the lowered lids insinuated she had heard other things about his reputation which were equally interesting.

Behind him, McCoy coughed.

'Forgive me,' Kirk said, belatedly recalled to a sense of duty. 'May I introduce my First Officer, Commander Spock, and Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer?'

'Gentlemen,' Eowyn murmured, with a slanting look of appraisal.

'And Chief Engineer Scott. I believe you already know Sally.'

'Yes, very well indeed,' Eowyn replied. Kirk glanced suspiciously at Sally's perfectly straight face and went on,

'Scott, please inform the 'Redemption' that Ambassador Randall has arrived safely, then get the engines primed for warp. Spock, have Sulu plot a course for Ankarda and ETA at warp five. Now, Ambassador, would you care for a tour of my ship?'

'Captain,' Sally said at once, 'you did ask me to remind you about that very urgent appointment this morning.'

Kirk directed a murderous look at her.

'If that is so, sir,' Spock said, extremely promptly, 'perhaps the Ambassador would accept my company…'

'Nonsense, Spock, you must be needed on the bridge,' McCoy interrupted. He smiled brilliantly at Eowyn. 'Now, I have absolutely no plans for the day, Ambassador.'

'Gentlemen,' Eowyn said, holding up her hands and laughing, 'how can I choose between you? Will you forgive me if I say Sally and I haven't seen each other for some time and have a lot to catch up on?'

Kirk said to the link,

-Invent a watertight excuse this instant or you'll be swabbing decks for the next six months-

'I'm very sorry, Wyn, but I'm on duty at the moment,' Sally said, flicking the faintest shadow of a wink in Eowyn's direction. 'Oh, by the way, Captain…'

'Yes?' Kirk said, with foreboding.

'I made a mistake about that appointment – it's tomorrow morning.'

Restraining himself with difficulty, Kirk said to Eowyn,

'It seems I am free after all.' Spock and McCoy both looked distinctly crestfallen.

'In that case, Captain, I accept with pleasure.' With an apologetic glance at Spock and McCoy, Eowyn took Kirk's arm and swept out into the corridor with him.

Sally's laughter, muffled but perfectly audible, followed them for quite some way.

'One day, I will probably murder that minx,' Kirk said to Eowyn as he ushered her into the ship's park.

'You may find I beat you to it,' Eowyn responded, with a merry smile. 'Did she lead you to expect the worst about me?'

'She didn't exactly lead me,' Kirk said truthfully, 'but then she didn't try to undeceive me, either.'

'Oh damn, I can imagine.' Eowyn started to chuckle, a rich, throaty, infectious bubble of sound. 'That wretched 'ambassador' tag blights my life, you wouldn't believe the preconceptions people have.' A slantwise look. 'Or would you?'

'Ambassador…'

'Eowyn, please.'

'Eowyn. I will never allow myself a preconception again. You are, believe me, substantially more glamorous than my previous experience of Federation ambassadors led me to expect.'

'I know Robert Fox,' Eowyn said dryly, 'and I believe that was a compliment.' The look she gave him was full of mischief, inviting him to share the joke, and he began to laugh.

'However,' she continued, immediately adopting a stern frown, 'I take my job very seriously. Do you know what the situation on Ankarda is?'

'I was given a brief summary, but Doran told me you would prefer to do the formal update.'

They had reached the fountain in the centre of the park. Eowyn said, 'Formal enough for you?' and sat down on the bench, beckoning Kirk to sit beside her. She stared into the sparkling blue water for a long moment, her face suddenly grim and intent. Her skin was patterned with light reflected from the water. She was not quite beautiful, but she was entirely enchanting.

'Ankarda joined the Federation twenty-five years ago,' Eowyn said slowly. 'They have a technological-dependant faction on the one hand, which is the ruling party, and that was the group which pushed for membership of the U.F.P.. On the other hand was a small sect claiming to be revolted by our dependence on machines. They've been trying for years to force the government of Ankarda to return to an agrarian state.

'Until about six months ago, this sect was regarded as a bunch of eccentrics who rushed about shouting and smashing up machinery whenever they got the chance – usually the kind that saves most of the work, which did not make them too popular with the majority. They were, frankly, ridiculous in their methods and when people weren't being mildly annoyed they were laughing at them; they had nuisance value, nothing more.

'And then Kerad arrived…'

'I've heard of him,' Kirk interrupted. 'Isn't he a pirate?'

'He's been a lot of things, most of them unsavoury. Gun runner, drug smuggler, mercenary. He's always had an eye out for the main chance and he's been far too clever to get caught, though authorities from most of the galaxies have tried. But… he also has a great deal of charm, amazing looks – think male version of Sally, he really is striking – and a magnetic personality. He's almost hypnotic when he speaks.'

'You've met him, then?' Kirk asked, not bothering to analyse the vague sensation of jealously her description roused in him.

'Once, and very briefly. He raided the cargo ship I was travelling on – there's an interesting story behind how I ended up there, remind me to tell it to you sometime…'

'I will.'

'Anyway, he made off with the shipment of hardware the freighter was carrying, spat in my eye – figuratively _and_ literally – and disappeared into deep space. He'd already taken over leadership of the Flares by then.

'I don't know why he decided to stay on Ankarda and lead the Flares. Perhaps he wants power. Perhaps he really does believe in what they stand for, though somehow I doubt that. But the Flares had found a winner. His speeches had them standing in the aisles, begging for more. He organised guerrilla strike forces and they started going for the big targets – power stations, mines, communication relays. He ran rings round the security forces and made them look silly into the bargain. With every success, more people flooded to join him – from five thousand when the took over to over sixty thousand now. And the movement's still growing.'

'So now they have a voice?'

'They have a voice,' Eowyn agreed, shifting slightly on the bench so that the silk of her dress tightened across breasts and thighs. Kirk brought his attention forcibly back to what she was saying. 'Kerad is demanding withdrawal from the Federation and a complete cessation of our imports. Or he'll start a civil war, take over government and throw us out by force.'

'Could he do it?'

'Oh, yes, very easily. He has half the ruling council on his side already and God knows how many who haven't declared. Plus sixty thousand people willing to take up arms against us if he gives the word.'

'And what, exactly, is your role?' Kirk asked, leaning closer to her. She did not move away. Her hair smelled fresh and flowery. She wore diamond stars in her ears which glittered with her movements, leaving fiery trails across Kirk's retina.

'My role is to reconcile him to the Federation,' Eowyn said. She sounded as if she had complete confidence in achieving this objective. 'We don't want Ankarda to secede. We've got a large research station there that we'd rather not lose and they supply us with valuable – and scarce - minerals. And if I can't get him to accept us, I've got to stop the war. At any cost. We'd rather lose them altogether than watch them tear their planet apart. That, incidentally, is for your ears only. It's not the official line.'

'And the 'Enterprise's' function is what? Diplomatic show of force?'

'Right on the button, Captain.' The serious expression was replaced by her lovely slanted look. 'Full dress uniform and stern but joyous mien –that's the form, I'm afraid. Are we going to continue with the tour or are you going to kiss me now?'

'Now,' Kirk said, and did. Her response was skilled and enthusiastic and when he lifted his mouth from hers she said, 'Again,' and drew him back. Her skin was warm and very smooth.

Footsteps approached along the path. By the time the group of crewmen came into sight Kirk and Eowyn, both slightly flushed but otherwise perfectly composed, were standing on opposite sides of the fountain admiring the view. As the group went past, Eowyn crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Kirk, which very nearly upset his gravity, somewhat precarious at that moment in any case.

'I think you must be a witch,' Kirk told her.

'I am, when I'm not an ambassador. And I don't plan on being that until we get to Ankarda.'

'Dinner? My cabin?' Kirk suggested. 'I'm on duty in twenty minutes, but I have the evening free.'

'And the night?' She was smiling. ' Is that free too?'

'Not any more,' Kirk said.

'Sally, are you by any chance match-making again?'

'I'm sure I don't know what you mean,' Sally replied, offended.

'Me. Jim. Confluence,' Eowyn said succinctly.

'Oh, come _off _it, Wyn.' Sally's grin was spread half-way across her face. 'Once I knew it was you, the rest was a foregone conclusion. I didn't have to do any plotting, just trust to your own natural instincts – which are, pretty nearly, as good as mine… Don't you find him attractive?'

'Very. I also don't think he needs any help from _you_.'

'Ah ha… I thought I recognised that self-satisfied expression. Jim's been so well behaved recently I was beginning to think he'd taken a vow of celibacy. No chance of that with you around.'

'Or you?' Eowyn asked, sitting down on the bed beside her. She was surprised at how much she wanted the answer to be negative.

'No way,' Sally said promptly, and definitely enough to be convincing. 'Although I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it. He _is_ gorgeous, isn't he? Those eyes… hmmm, the muscles and that smile, well… and I can vouch for the fact he knows what he's doing… actually, now that you mention it, hands off, he's mine!'

Eowyn threw a hairbrush at her. She fielded it with a snap of her fingers, laughing.

'I'm kidding! Really. I flirt with him, but I do that with everyone. The odd thing is, although I do recognise that he is devastatingly attractive, the thought of sleeping with him has always seemed a bit… incestuous. I think I must have imprinted on him.'

'You what?'

'Imprinted. You know… some species hatch and believe that the first thing they see must be their parent. Jim's was the first mind I had contact with when I woke up. I do love him dearly, but he feels like a brother… and he is quite safe from me.'

'Must be one of the few men who are.' Light tone not quite masking the relief. Heaven knew she didn't expect him to have been a saint. She had never claimed that distinction herself, after all. But not Sally. Anyone but Sally.

'You make me sound like some sort of siren,' Sally said. 'I'm not. It takes two, as you very well know. I just don't… object very often.'

'I've never seen you object at all,' Eowyn declared roundly and Sally acknowledged the truth of this statement with a shrug and a wry grin.

'You're too generous, Sally. One day it's going to get you into trouble.'

'And look who's talking. The diplomatic corps' number one man-trap…'

Eowyn hit her with a pillow. Sally rolled off the bed, giggling hysterically. As she did so, her eyes fell on the clock and she gave a shriek of dismay.

'Sod it, I said I'd meet Spock in the gym three minutes ago. That means he'll spend five minutes lecturing me on the virtues of good timekeeping – again.'

She leapt to her feet, flinging off her robe as she did so. Typically, she was naked underneath it.

Eowyn sighed. Her own body was pleasant enough and on good days it could even, with some justice, be described as beautiful. However, she knew she was too small and how easily the agreeable curves of waist and thighs could turn to plumpness if not carefully controlled.

But Sally… Sally was as superb as a woman could be. There was not one blemish on her pale honey-gold skin, not one freckle (Eowyn sighed again) marred its satin smoothness. The bones at the base of her neck and across her shoulders would have set a sculptor's fingers itching for his tools. She moved with the easy grace of an athlete and the confidence of a woman who knows she is lovely. The curves of her breasts and waist were flawless. It was no wonder that she seemed to have decided all that gloriousness was too much for one man alone to handle.

'You spend a lot of time with Spock,' Eowyn said. 'He's in all your letters.'

'And so?' Sally replied absent-mindedly, belting her black top about her waist.

'He is very attractive. And some women find Vulcans an irresistible challenge.'

'Some women must have masochistic tendencies, then. I like Spock. He's a good friend. We do have quite a bit in common, oddly enough. But I don't have enough patience for challenges. I like to catch my men quickly and then throw 'em back in the river for someone else to keep.'

'You didn't throw Taishun back,' Eowyn said, a little hesitantly, not knowing how raw that wound still was.

'No,' said Sally, meeting her eyes. 'I didn't, and wouldn't have. But he's gone. And there isn't anyone else out there like him. I had the real thing, Eowyn. And I can't settle for less now.' She grinned, dispelling the melancholy, and added, 'So many men, so little time…'

And then she was off, running down the corridor with her hair pinning itself up behind her as she ran.

Three days later they went into orbit around Ankarda.

Kirk sat in his command chair on the bridge, watching the green planet spin beneath them. His muscles and mind were tense as he considered the mission to come but some part of his consciousness was as relaxed as it had ever been. The reason for this was presently decks below, robbing herself for the official dinner to be given in her honour by the President of Ankarda and his ruling council.

Eowyn.

Being with her was like drowning in brandy; coming up for air momentarily only to dive back into the tawny waters. Her passion, experience and intelligence matched his own, and occasionally surpassed them.

He hadn't made any promises or commitments although, for the first time in a long while, he was spending time with someone he felt might actually be worth holding on to. What there had been, in large quantities, was laughter. Eowyn was an impulsive and frequent chuckler, usually at the most inappropriate moments, and her sense of fun was catching. Kirk was at ease with her, could relax with her, could laugh with her and at her and, occasionally, even at himself.

'Captain,' Uhura said from her station, 'Ankarda Space Control have given the beam down co-ordinates to the Transporter Room. They request that you beam down now.'

'Thank you, Uhura. Ask Mr Scott to report to the bridge and request Mr Spock, Dr McCoy, Ambassador Randall and Miss Kilsyth to attend in the transporter room.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

Kirk stood up. They were off.

Kirk met Eowyn at her cabin door and they walked to the transporter room together. Kirk was in full dress uniform and Eowyn had chosen deep gold silk (to tone in with him, he suspected – they did look extremely good together, he had to admit.) Moments after they reached it, Sally strolled in with Spock at her side. Informed by both Kirk and Eowyn in no uncertain terms that the culture they were guests of had medieval attitudes to women's dress, she was for once demurely attired. She managed to look spectacular all the same, in full length blue-black satin scattered with hundreds of embroidered silver stars, each with a tiny crystal glittering in its centre. Aside from the heavy sweep of the skirt it was pretty much moulded to her figure, prompting Kirk to ask where on earth she had stashed her communicator.

'Yep, that had Spock mystified too,' she responded, with a naughty chuckle.

'Please do not request further enlightenment, Captain,' Spock suggested. 'I made the mistake of doing so.'

'I've never seen a Vulcan blush before,' Sally remarked, in the tone of a scientist who has achieved a lifelong ambition. She threw Spock a glance absolutely sparkling with mischief and comradeship and her fingertips lightly brushed his arm and fell away. McCoy, entering the room in time to take in this exchange, caught Kirk's eye, and gave him a look pregnant with meaning.

'Ladies,' he said, with his Southern gentleman charm, 'you look truly magnificent. Don't you agree, Spock?'

'I hardly think I am qualified to give an opinion, Doctor,' was what Spock said. His eyes, however, rested momentarily on Sally as she mounted the transporter platform with Eowyn.

Kirk took his place beside Eowyn. As the lights began to dim, she murmured provocatively,

'Stern but joyous mien, Jim.'

He grinned at her, and later wished he had held on to those moments in the transporter room for longer or that something had happened to stop them beaming down. It was to be a long time before he was as happy again.

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER SEVEN – ANKARDA (continued)

'You are on a watching brief,' Kirk had told Sally earlier in the day. 'The situation on Ankarda is

explosive; I want you there with your mind open and your mouth well and truly shut, do I make myself clear?'

'Abundantly, Captain,' Sally had replied, a little dryly. 'When you say mind open, I take it you don't mean attitude.'

'You know I don't. If you pick up anything, no matter how small, I need to be told about it. From what Eowyn tells me the circumstances could change dramatically and I want to be the first to know if that happens.'

'Are you expecting Kerad to declare war while we're there?'

'I don't know what I'm expecting. But… put yourself in his shoes, Sally. Can you think of a more dramatic way to make your point than by declaring secession in front of the Federation Ambassador? I'm afraid Eowyn may turn out to be just the detonator they need. The only reason I'm letting you come is because I need the advance warning you could give me.'

'Why, Cap'n Jim, I believe you don't entirely trust me.'

'I trust you implicitly. It's your talent for getting yourself into trouble I worry about. I want you on your best behaviour.'

'It shall never be said that I disobeyed a direct order,' Sally said with dignity. 'Best behaviour it will be.'

She had been as good as her word. Throughout the long-drawn out formality of the evening, the speeches, the toasts, the polite and meaningless courtesy, she had given a singularly convincing performance of a highly decorative young woman without a thought in her head.

She was seated quite some way from Kirk. The seating arrangements were ceremonial to a degree and Sally ranked very low in the order of precedence. Eowyn had been placed beside Hirolan, the President. He was a man with a harassed and peevish expression and from what Kirk had heard of his conversation, he was boring, too. Eowyn was listening to his long list of complaints with an interested expression and a charming smile that didn't waver for a second, causing Kirk's opinion of her to rise still further.

The tables had been set in the shape of a square with a gap at the door end to allow the servants access. The high table, at which Kirk and Eowyn sat, was filled with Ankarda's ruling council, some twenty of them, all men. The right hand table was occupied by their wives and lesser dignitaries, including Spock and McCoy. The last table, on the left hand side, was reserved for those of minor importance and it was here that Sally had been seated, much to the delight of the young men on either side of her. Sally was encouraging their attentions, but with an absent-minded air.

She had picked up nothing definite, but Kirk knew she was worried. She believed something was being planned but it was a subliminal feeling. She was watching the diners now, Kirk noticed; as her hands idly crumbled a piece of bread on her plate, her eyes were flitting swiftly from face to face.

Kirk had felt himself grow more tense as the evening progressed. The initial reception had gone smoothly, with fulsome compliments being paid to the ladies by Hirolan and assurances of respect and co-operation on both side. After these pleasantries were concluded, Hirolan had burst into a vituperative tirade against the 'Flares' which had lasted throughout the reception and looked set to last through dinner as well.

Fortunately, Kirk was not sitting close enough to be drawn into the conversation since, he was honest enough to admit, he would probably have lost patience after the first five minutes. Why did the man not negotiate or deliver an attack of his own instead of whining about how difficult it was to keep the 'Flares' under control? His hatred of Kerad seemed to amount almost to mania. Kirk found himself wishing he might meet the man who was causing so much trouble.

'Is it as bad as he says it is?' Kirk asked the councillor sitting next to him, whose name was Mathias.

'It's much worse,' Mathias said briefly. 'Kerad's forces are growing bolder all the time. Last week they attacked the main power station. The city was without light or heat for two days while the damage was repaired. How people can believe that it is better to live without all the benefits technology can provide is beyond my understanding. Yet even after that incident, his followers hailed him as a hero.'

'I can understand that,' Kirk said. 'I spend my life in an artificial environment, breathing air that has been recycled and purified, eating food that has been produced by a computer. There are times when I wonder what I'm doing there, when I want nothing more than to feel real grass under my feet and the sun on my face.'

'But what these people want is so much more than that. "Back to nature".' Mathias spat the words out with loathing. 'Back to chaos and disorganisation, more like. How do they imagine they will feed the population if they close down the automated farms and the processing plants? Or provide water if they open up the reservoirs? You can't expect hundreds of thousands of people to give up everything they've worked for to start living in thatched cottages and raise chickens.'

'You miss the point entirely,' snapped the man on Kirk's left. His name, Kirk remembered, was Larian, and he was obviously a sympathiser. 'Kerad is more than aware of the advantages technology brings with it. But he believes it has taken the power of independent thought from us and that we need an incentive to start living and feeling again. That incentive would be provided by having to start from scratch, to think and plan where the next meal is coming from. You should be able to appreciate that, captain. You, at least, don't live a bloodless existence. There is still some excitement, some challenge, in your life.'

'So there is,' Kirk agreed. 'And it's made possible by the very thing you say you want to do away with.'

-And you were worried _I'd_ open my big mouth- said the link, with a quiver of laughter.

-I'm entitled to an opinion-

-So you are, but… Something's up. Jim. Spock-

-Specify-

-Outside. Kerad. Jim, he wants Eowyn-

Kirk was out of his seat and making for Eowyn as the door burst open. Spock was heading for them from the other side. McCoy, without the benefit of a forewarning, was looking confused but he was following Spock. Sally lifted her heavy skirts and clambered up on to the table so that she could see everything and cause chaos if necessary.

Through the door came a stream of men and women. Some were carrying banners, some were chanting and some, more terrifyingly, were holding weapons which they pointed in a business-like fashion at the head table.

Hirolan was on his feet, shaking with rage, screaming over the shouts of his frightened fellow guests and the chanted slogans of the interlopers.

'What is the meaning of this intrusion? How dare you break in like this? Get out! Get out, I tell you!'

He was ignored. The square space in the centre of the tables was now packed with bodies and still people streamed in through the doors until the walls too were lined with them.

'Eowyn,' Kirk said urgently, 'we've got to get you out of here.'

'Not a chance, Jim. This is my job, remember?' Kirk's hand moved to his communicator regardless. She said sharply, 'Pull a stunt like that and I'll have you court-martialed! I outrank you in this situation and I insist we stay!'

'As you wish, Ambassador,' Kirk replied, very coldly.

'Look here, Eowyn, you're being here isn't only a danger to yourself, it's a danger to these people, too.' McCoy waded gamely into the argument. 'This isn't the time for heroics. Come back when it's over and sort it out by all means, but right now I recommend getting the hell out.'

'Recommendation noted, doctor,' was his reply.

Still people packed into the hall until Kirk thought there couldn't possibly be room for any more. The banqueters had fallen silent, sitting quiet and still in their chairs, watching the guns scattered amongst the crowd. Even Hirolan, although beet-red with indignation, had ceased to rant.

A hushed expectation settled over them like dust.

-Sally, get over here. We may need to leave in a hurry-

Sally began to pick her way along the tabletop. No-one tried to stop her. All eyes were riveted on the door.

Through it came a man and the crowd moved back to form a passageway and give him access. Sally, still some yards from the rest of her party, turned to look at him from her vantage point.

He was tall, and carried himself with an arrogant composure. Dressed simply, in black, with his tanned and muscled arms bare, he was quite startlingly beautiful. His hair, dark blond, was cropped closely to his head; his face was squarish, with high cheekbones and a firm-lipped mouth. His eyes, clear blue and ruthless, scanned the room as he walked through the crowd.

Over the heads of the mob, those eyes met Sally's. She said nothing, but she gave an involuntary smile and Kirk could have sworn the word 'yum' echoed through the link.

Kerad paused in mid-stride; for a few seconds their gazes held. Then he continued on his way towards the high table. Eowyn very firmly shouldered in front of Kirk and Spock to stand beside Hirolan, who was by this time apoplectic with rage.

-Cap'n Jim. What do I do?-

-Wait-

'Scum!' he shrieked at Kerad, shaking his fist violently in the air. 'Fiend! Do you have the faintest notion, in that twisted mind of yours, of what you're doing? Get out!'

'Hold your peace, old man,' Kerad said, with contempt. He had a clear, tenor voice with remarkable carrying power; his words echoed round the packed room. 'You no longer have any power to dictate. My people hold the power station, the council chambers, and the communication centres. I have taken over this planet, Hirolan.'

'You will have to kill me first!' Hirolan squealed.

Kerad shrugged.

'As you wish.' He took a gun from the belt at his waist and pointed it at Hirolan's head. Hirolan stood transfixed, mouth open in disbelief.

Eowyn moved suddenly to stand in front of Hirolan, avoiding the hand Kirk held out to stop her.

'I hardly think that's necessary,' she said sharply. 'He is no threat to you, Kerad.'

'Ambassador Randall,' Kerad sketched her a slight, insolent bow. 'I am delighted to meet you again – even though, once more, you are interfering in matters that don't concern you.'

'Until I have been given official notice of secession, what happens here concerns me very much,' Eowyn told him. 'By what right do you claim leadership over the elected council?'

'By the right of the voice of the people!' cried someone in the throng, and a deafening roar of approval went up.

'Does that answer the question?' Kerad said to Eowyn, spreading out his hands with a grin.

'All of the people? Are you a leader or a dictator? What of those who voted to join the Federation and wish to remain with us?'

'There are fewer of them than you might think, and they are free to leave if they want to stay with the Federation so much. I will keep no-one here against their will.'

'Then hold a referendum in a proper fashion – but you won't, you coward,' Hirolan was back in action, quivering with terror but determined to speak his mind. Kirk found himself admiring the old man.

'This is useless, Hirolan. I have all the support I need,' Kerad spoke with weary dislike. 'Will you surrender peacefully or must we make you?'

For answer, Hirolan, moving surprisingly swiftly for a man of his years, snatched a gun out of the hands of the man standing next to him and fired it unhesitatingly at Kerad. He missed by several feet but a man in the crowd gave a scream of pain and fell, blood dripping through the hand that clutched at his shoulder.

Kirk said, 'Shit,' and thrust Eowyn unceremoniously behind him, ignoring her protesting squeak of indignation. As he did so, the mob surged around him, separating himself and Eowyn from Spock and McCoy.

-Now, Sally. Get the guns-

Sally was still on the tabletop and over the noise he clearly heard her fingers snapping like firecrackers. All the guns in the room (with the exception of the Enterprise phasers) suddenly flew into the air and crashed into the ceiling where they stayed, as if magnetised.

-Good girl-

'Never mind that!' Kerad shouted above the tumult. 'We had fists long before we had guns! Get me the Federation Ambassador!'

Pandemonium reigned as the crowd, maddened by the hurt to one of its own and the mysterious loss of its weapons, started to wreak revenge on the assembled guests.

-Sally, get back here-

-People in trouble, Cap'n Jim. Need to help-

Spock, fighting to get back to Kirk, found himself being pushed further and further away.

A hand reached out to grasp Sally's ankle, trying to drag her into the seething mass in the centre of the floor. She kicked it away and plates and glasses started to skim off the tables to smash into the crowd.

Kirk grabbed McCoy from a group of combatants and hauled him into the corner with Eowyn, setting his phaser to 'stun' as he did so.

'Jim…' Eowyn said uncertainly.

'If you've got a better idea, now would be the time,' Kirk told her grimly. 'Right now I'd say it's the only form of diplomacy this lot will understand.'

A woman, face congested with hatred, ran towards them with her hands stretched out, nails aiming for Eowyn's eyes. Kirk fired at her and she went down.

The huge white linen tablecloth from the top table flew upwards, floated swiftly down the centre of the room and dropped suddenly, trapping a dozen men and women in its folds.

Women were screaming from the far end of the room. Sally slipped off her shoes and began to run towards the sound. People with blood streaming from wounds suddenly lifted into the air and were floated out of the open windows to safety.

Kirk's phaser was knocked out of his hands. He lunged for the sea of faces in front of him and felt the satisfying contact of fist with bone. McCoy was fighting valiantly beside him. Eowyn dived for the dropped phaser only to watch it being kicked across the floor out of her reach.

Spock, fighting with increasing savagery, began to make headway towards Kirk.

The three wood and iron chandeliers on the ceiling started to sway wildly and then dropped one by one, putting forty rebels out of action.

-Sally, back here. We're getting out and bringing back a security crew-

Kerad battled his way towards Kirk, a knife in his hands. As he raised it, it flew out of his fingers. He went for Kirk regardless, dragging him away from Eowyn and McCoy. McCoy went after them, tearing at Kerad's arm, trying desperately to break the grip on Kirk.

Sally, who was coming back towards them, suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, an expression of fierce concentration on her face.

For the rest of his life, Spock had nightmares of what was to follow.

He was yards away from Kirk, still further from Sally. Some invisible force had flung Kerad away from Kirk, but a dozen men were there to take his place. Their aim was clear; Eowyn was what they wanted and they did not care who died before they got her. Kirk was bleeding heavily from a cut on the forehead. McCoy looked almost exhausted.

-Spock, you have to get to them. I don't think I can keep this up-

Arrows started to fly in through the windows. Sally threw out a hand and all of them embedded safely in the walls above head height.

-Spock, for God's sake get them out-

Behind Sally, who was still in that trance-like attitude of concentration, one of Kerad's mob had climbed up on to the table. Since the chandeliers had come down the light was dim, but Spock saw the knife clearly all the same.

('Her life is yours to protect. Swear it!')

He could not possibly reach them both in time.

He _had _to reach them both.

He made it to Kirk's side at last, thrusting him safely into the corner and holding off the attackers with one hand as he stretched for Sally with the other.

-Sally. Behind you. Protect yourself-

Kirk had his communicator open, snapping orders into it so fast Spock could hardly make the words out.

Sally was finally running towards them but the man with the knife was still too close behind her. As Spock started to go to her, Kerad appeared out of no-where with a gun, aiming it at Kirk with grim determination on his face. With absolutely no volition of his own, Spock's body twisted away from Sally and he found himself grasping Kerad's arm, bringing the forearm down across his knee so sharply he heard the bone break.

-Go. Get him out of here-

The hum of the transporter sounded above all the other noise.

Eowyn screamed, 'Sally!'

Kirk and Spock both started to go to her. She snapped her fingers and they were pushed powerfully back into the beams.

In the moment before vision faded Spock saw the knife flash down.

Kirk rolled off the transporter platform on the momentum of his lunge for Sally. Eowyn sat down quickly on the edge, white as a sheet, a certain compression of the lips suggesting that she was fighting back nausea. As McCoy bent unsteadily over her, Kirk said,

'Find her, Scotty. Bring her up.'

'I canna do that, sir,' Scott said unhappily. 'There's no transmission from her communicator. It must ha' got damaged, or broken. Finding one woman in thon crowd is impossible… I'm sorry, Captain.' His face was distressed for his helplessness in the face of Sally's plight.

'Then get me a security contingent and a med team down here on the double,' Kirk said, getting to his feet and brushing off McCoy as he tried to look at the cut on his head.

'You're not going back down there, Jim!' McCoy cried, shocked.

'Of course I'm going back,' Kirk replied savagely. 'Sally's down there, isn't she? Spock, are you with me?'

It was an unnecessary question. The Vulcan was already at his side, handing Kirk a new phaser, setting his own to 'stun', slow deliberate movements accentuating rather than hiding the tension in him.

'Take me, too, then,' McCoy said. 'If she's wounded, she'll need me.'

'I need you safe up here,' Kirk said shortly. As the security team and the medics dashed in and assembled on the platform, he found time to squeeze McCoy's shoulder sympathetically.

'Don't worry, Bones,' and for a second, the hell-bent Kirk grin flashed across his face, 'we'll get her out. Energise, Scotty.'

'Don't worry, he says,' McCoy muttered to Scott, helping Eowyn to her feet as the party on the platform flickered out of existence. 'I'm a doctor, not a damn Vulcan. Don't worry, indeed.' He snorted in disgust and stalked out of the transporter room towards sickbay, leaving Scott and Eowyn staring at each other in worried silence.

In the few minutes they had been gone, the scene in the banquet hall had changed out of all recognition. Kerad's forces had withdrawn, leaving the bodies of the dead and wounded where they lay. Kirk set guards at the door and windows and directed the med team and the rest of the security staff to help the wounded. Spock scanned the room with his tricorder probing for any sign of life.

Kirk, his face set in an unreadable mask, began searching the room for Sally's tangle of flaming hair. There was silence in the room, broken only by the moans of the injured and the occasional hum of the transporter as people were whisked off to the 'Enterprise' medical facilities.

After fifteen fruitless, harrowing minutes, he had to admit she was not there.

Kirk and Spock met up in the middle of the room, carefully avoiding the litter of bodies.

It had to be spoken, what they both knew, had known when they beamed out of the carnage, had known when they came back to look for her.

'Jim,' Spock said reluctantly, his voice pitched too low for the others to hear, 'the link is dead.'

Not shut off voluntarily; not closed to them by her choice; dead as if it had never existed.

'And you think she is too.' Kirk did not give the phrase the intonation of a question. Spock's carved face was all the answer he needed, anyway. 'I won't believe it. Not until I see a body. Sally wouldn't let herself be killed.'

'I saw her stabbed,' Spock said, still in that tone of reluctance, as if he himself did not want to hear the words he was saying.

'You could have seen her hung, drawn and quartered, for all I care,' Kirk snapped. 'I'm going to search this planet inch by inch until I find her. She could be unconscious. She could be in shock. A hundred and one things could have happened, and if you are prepared to give up, then I am not!'

'I have absolutely no wish to suggest that you do so. I simply believe… we must accept the logical possibility of her death.'

Kirk opened his mouth for a scathing response, but it was never uttered. Baines, the head of the security team, suddenly gave a sharp cry of, 'Captain!' and came over to them as fast as the littered floor would allow. His right hand was clenched.

'Captain, look.' He opened his hand. In the palm was a smashed communicator and a scrap of blue-black satin. Where he had crushed it, his fingers were stained with blood.

Kirk looked at Spock, and what he saw in that dark gaze impelled him to ignore his own desperate fear and say,

'We'll find her, Spock. We will find her.'

Slowly, the picture of events on Ankarda became clear.

Kerad, assuming Kirk would return with reinforcements, had fled the banquet hall with his followers only to find the city had risen against him. After a short, but conclusive, battle in the city centre, Kerad and five of his most trusted associates had disappeared. It was commonly assumed he had taken his ship 'Horizon' into deep space; certainly she was not in space dock where she most definitely had been twenty-four hours earlier.

He left behind him a city stunned by the speed and ferocity of the attack. Half of the ruling council were dead, most were injured, and the rebels had set fires as they were routed with the result that all power and communication was out.

It made searching that much more difficult. Looking for Sally in that dark, confused and unhappy city was like looking for a grain of salt in a sugar bowl. Kirk's search parties combed the streets, the hospitals, the temporary shelters. Spock had the sensors start the slow process of a three hundred and sixty degree scan, seeking that unique structure of atoms belonging to Sally.

No-one had seen her, no-one had noticed her, no-one knew where she was. Blank looks and shaken heads were the only responses Kirk's search teams got.

She had vanished completely and without trace.

'It's all my fault,' Eowyn said, twisting her hands together uncontrollably. 'If I'd let you come back when you wanted to, none of this would have happened and Sally would be here now. I killed her, Jim. I couldn't have made a better job of it if I'd stuck the knife in her myself.'

Kirk took hold of the restless hands, imprisoned them between his own, holding them quiet and steady.

'We don't know that she's dead…'

'Of course she is,' Eowyn said hopelessly. 'It's been three days.'

Three days of silence from the link, not even the faintest resonance in Kirk's mind to show she might still be alive. He had found the absence of the link more devastating than he had ever found its presence, and not just because he was afraid it meant her death. The nearest comparison he had been able to come up with was that at first, the link had been comparable to having music played, quietly but incessantly, in his vicinity. A distraction at first, possibly an annoyance, as time went on he had ceased to become aware of it at all, so perfectly had it melted into the background of his life.

Now the music had stopped and the silence was deafening. Every time he tried to think he was aware of the empty space where she had been, aware that once again he was cut off, alone, a prisoner forever inside his own skull.

He missed her more than he had ever imagined he could.

'We don't know that she's dead,' he repeated gently. He would never pronounce her dead unless he saw her lifeless body with his own eyes; would go on believing that his lovely Sally was still alive somewhere. 'And you were doing your job. Sally of all people will understand that. It's the best thing about having a telepath as a friend. You don't have to explain things. They always know.'

'Oh, God, if you knew how much I hope I get the chance to explain this…' She began to weep, silently, tears sliding unheeded down her cheeks. Kirk took her in his arms and held her there, tightly.

After a while, still weeping, she began to kiss him.

They had not been together since the night before that eventful evening. Both had been busy; Kirk with organising the search and Eowyn with negotiations between what remained of the 'Flares' and the council. There had also been, on Kirk's part at least, a reluctance to share his bed. He felt that in some way, his enjoyment of Eowyn would belittle his grief for Sally and be a kind of betrayal.

He tried to explain this to Eowyn now; haltingly, because he was not a man used to revealing his deepest thoughts to a lover, had regarded most of them as transient events in a life otherwise occupied. She listened in silence with her hand still clasped in his, her head on his shoulder.

'Sally wouldn't have seen it that way, Jim,' she said, when he fell silent. 'She was so alive, took such joy in being alive. Being together is the best compliment we could pay her. It's so exactly what she would have done herself.'

It wasn't until much later, as he gazed into the dark with restless eyes while Eowyn slept beside him, that Kirk realised she had used the past tense.

Kirk was in the Briefing Room with Spock and McCoy when the call from Doran came through.

It was their fifth day in orbit round Ankarda, five days of searching, sleeplessness and gradual loss of hope. Spock, who had kept up the scan twenty-four hours a day, refusing to entrust the task to anyone else, was beginning to look slightly haggard. Kirk was well aware that the Vulcan could adjust his metabolism to do without sleep for periods, but he thought Spock had not even taken the time to do that; he was looking as if he stayed on his feet by sheer willpower. McCoy had tried to joke him into taking some rest not long before, hoping at least to aggravate him into an argument to release some of the tension so clearly in him. His only answer had been a brief, emphatic shake of the head.

Kirk had called Spock and McCoy together hoping the three of them might come up with some new idea, some avenue not yet explored. However, ideas were conspicuously absent that day.

'You don't suppose,' had been McCoy's contribution, reluctantly made in the face of Spock's stony expression, 'she might have gone off with Kerad?'

'And not told me?' Kirk said. 'No. And it wouldn't explain the link.'

'I'm sorry, Jim,' McCoy said, without looking at his captain. 'I can think of only one thing that would.'

'She is not dead,' Kirk said, through his teeth.

'She's not on Ankarda either,' McCoy responded. 'We've proved that pretty conclusively…'

'The last sensor readings have not yet been correlated, doctor,' Spock interrupted.

'And if she is, she doesn't want to be found,' McCoy continued, as if Spock had not spoken. 'You can't stay here forever, Jim.'

Kirk leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, hands pressed on either side of his head. McCoy thought he had never seen him so depressed. He put his hand gently on Kirk's shoulder.

'Jim, I never really knew my own daughter. I've seen her twice since she was a child; I'd be hard pressed to recognise her if we passed each other in the corridor. Sally was everything I like to imagine Joanna to be. I could not have loved her more if she had been my own. I would give everything I possess, including my life, to have her back here safe and sound and there's a part of me that will never believe she isn't coming back. But you have a ship to run and a crew to consider. Almost all of them loved her too, and they won't quit until you do. Must you burden them with your grief as well as their own? Give it up, Jim. It's time to bury the dead.'

His voice broke on the last word and Kirk looked up to see the blue eyes glinting with unshed tears. He knew how hard it had been for McCoy to make that speech, how difficult it was for him to speak of anything that moved him without resorting to a light-hearted, bantering tone.

'Ah, Bones…'

The Briefing Room screen lit up and Uhura's face appeared on it. Her eyes were red with weeping and her voice husky as she said,

'Sir, we have received a message from Admiral Doran.'

'Read it out, Uhura,' Kirk said, knowing as he spoke what the message would be.

'Yes, sir. Message reads: Deeply regret events on Ankarda led to the loss of Miss Kilsyth. However, further delay cannot be authorised. Have requested civilian authorities to continue the search. Ambassador Randall will remain on Ankarda to continue negotiations. You are ordered to proceed to your next mission immediately, details following in encoded mode. Message ends, sir.'

There was a long silence.

'Captain?' Uhura prompted.

Kirk drew a deep breath. McCoy was right; the time had come to move on.

'Thank you, Uhura. Transmit this to Doran. Message received and understood. Request that authorities on Ankarda notify us at once should Miss Kilsyth be found. Will leave orbit as soon as Ambassador Randall has transported down. Send that now, Uhura.'

'Yes, sir,' Uhura said tearfully and the screen blanked out.

'Well, gentlemen,' Kirk said, 'that would appear to be that. The decision is out of our hands.'

'And a bloody good thing too, if you ask me,' McCoy said roughly. 'You might get some sleep now.'

'I might. If you'll excuse me, I have to inform Ambassador Randall of her orders.'

He left, moving stiffly, as if his very bones hurt. Spock rose too.

'I'm sorrier for you than I am for him, you know,' McCoy remarked.

'Indeed, doctor.' Spock did not sound as if he were very interested in knowing why, but McCoy intended to tell him anyway.

'Yes. Because Jim will express his grief. Talk about it, share it, maybe cry a little. But you, who were as close to her as any of us – closer, I think – you'll bottle it all up inside you and let it eat at you like a cancer. You'll probably never admit to yourself that you loved her because your damned Vulcan logic doesn't permit it. And don't try and tell me you didn't care about her, because I know better.'

'I have not attempted to tell you anything, Dr McCoy,' Spock said. His skin looked as if it had been stretched too tightly over his face and the brown eyes were very sombre.

'She was an extraordinary woman,' McCoy went on doggedly, determined to make a crack, however small, in the tight control Spock had painted on himself like a varnish. 'She deserves some kind of memorial.'

'And what do you suggest? Sackcloth and ashes?'

'The Greeks had the right idea at that. They believed in letting their sorrow show.'

'If you expect me to make a public display of whatever grief I might feel, I am afraid I must disappoint you,' Spock said evenly. 'That would not bring her back. As you said, she was an extraordinary woman. She would not have asked me for something I could not give. I have duties to attend to. I bid you good night.'

Left to himself, McCoy sat where he was for some considerable time.

Then, quite without warning, he began to weep.

Spock had not set foot in his cabin since the night of Sally's disappearance. His duties had kept him occupied on the bridge, his inclination had been for company rather than solitude. He had not analysed the impulse which had led him to avoid being alone, a state which under normal circumstances he would have much preferred.

As he entered, he was immediately aware that her perfume was everywhere. His stomach muscles tensed as if preparing for a blow; he said, 'Sally?' before he could help himself. For an instant the aroma seemed to grow stronger, filling his nostrils with the heady, spicy scent he would have recognised anywhere, would have picked out as hers from a thousand others.

There was no answer. Although he could not logically have expected there to be, he was assailed by a disappointment so strong it was almost a physical pain.

It was the lily, of course. Sulu grew them for her in the hydroponics lab, having learned of her fondness for highly scented blooms; he had experimented with cross-pollination of species until he developed a flower that carried almost the same scent as her perfume. Now she always had a bouquet in her cabin. Spock had admired them once and since then, from time to time, Sally would bring him one perfect spray to put on his desk. She had brought one the night they beamed down to Ankarda, staying in his cabin to put the final touches to her make-up as they discussed music he was writing for her, music she planned to pen lyrics for and use in the next ship's concert. He could see her now in his mind's eye, darting about in her usual restless fashion as she muttered words and phrases to herself, scribbling down those she wanted to remember on a pad of paper on his desk. It was still there beside the lily, the generously scrawled words staring up at him in the handwriting that had given him so much cause for complaint.

With a sudden, uncontrolled movement, Spock swept the pad into a drawer and shut it out of sight.

He had once believed there was nothing he would not give to have his link with Sally removed, to have the reflections of her turbulent emotions permanently extracted from his mind. Now, he finally had his wish.

He felt as if part of his brain had been amputated.

He had learned to be at ease with Sally in a way he had never been at ease with any other human being, not even Kirk. Learned to allow her to touch him because she could not help but give physical definition to her affections. Let her get closer to him than he had permitted any man or woman to be, finally seeking out her company of his own free will.

She had demanded nothing from him and when he stepped out from behind his self-imposed mask – which he knew he had done at times – she had made no comment on it. He never felt as if she was waiting for his human side to show or hoping for the Vulcan shutter to slip. He had known he could reveal a little of himself to her in the certain knowledge she would show no surprise, and let the revelation go no further.

He would have trusted her with his life, and had. More importantly, he had trusted her with Kirk's life and she had not betrayed that trust. He did not think Kirk had found time to wonder why it was that Sally had allowed herself to be put in a position of danger and he devoutly hoped the captain never would – because if Kirk ever came to realise that in those last few minutes Sally had concentrated all of her power on keeping him safe, he would blame himself for her loss to the end of his days.

Spock knew it, of course. That was the only thing he could do for her now; to shoulder the burden of knowledge himself and let Kirk be free of further pain.

He also knew that as the weeks went past, Kirk, McCoy and all those who had loved her would come to terms with their grief. The empty space Sally had left would be filled, if never entirely, with new friends and new relationships.

For Spock, there would only ever be an aching void.

She had not so much crept under his defences, as Kirk had; she had trampled cheerfully straight over them as if they didn't exist. He had resisted her for a long time until he gradually came to realise that the merry face she showed the world hid a very real courage, a deep compassion, a fine and true sense of honour. She had gaily offered her friendship to him and asked for nothing in return. The link had given her a knowledge of him which she could, so easily, have used against him and never did. And there was one other important factor in their relationship which had dawned on him only after their return from Penthesilea.

If Kirk had been born a woman, he might have been one very much like Sally. That which he had learned to love in him was present in her also.

He had told her none of this and did not know how much she had guessed. If she suspected, she had said no word, made no sign. He did not doubt that she valued their friendship; she would probably even have said, with typical exaggeration, that she loved him. But he did not know if her feelings were deeper than that and now, he would never know.

At least… when he had seen her stabbed, he had felt her shock and disbelief before the link faded. He had sensed her terror and her fear that he would not get Kirk out in time.

But he had not felt her die.

What had happened to her might forever remain a mystery, but she was not dead.

And if it look him the rest of his days, Spock would honour his vow to Taishun and bring her home safe – to _all _of those who loved her.


	8. Chapter 8

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER EIGHT – VOID

The days passed, then the weeks, then the months.

Kirk had said goodbye to Eowyn with no promises for the future and she had not pressed him. If, as she believed, the feeling between them was genuine, then it would outlast this crisis and bring them together again when the time was right. Therefore she had not made their parting more difficult by asking for a declaration he was unable to give, but left with a quiet dignity for which he was profoundly grateful.

Outwardly, life on board went on just as before. Kirk presided over no funeral for Sally, held no memorial service for her. Her belongings remained in place in the cabin she had shared with Siran McKenna.

Kirk found that he could best handle her loss by telling himself she was coming back, that her absence this time was no different to the years she had spent away from them during her training. That one day, she would come back.

But there was a difference, of course.

There were no messages, no fun filled memories flying his way. The link continued to be nothing but a resounding silence. There was an aching space in his mind, once filled by Sally, of which he was constantly aware. Like a missing tooth, he kept probing it and being disappointed that it still was not there. He would find himself thinking, 'I must tell Sally…' only to be brought up short by the recollection that she was not there to tell. No Sally to share jokes with, to sip brandy with in the dark hours, to gently tease him and remove some of the burden of care from his shoulders. He would no longer round a corner and find her, dressed in some outrageously revealing costume, holding court amid a crowd of adoring crewmen.

He did not mourn her. Not a day went past that he did not think of her and wish she was there beside him, but he learned to hide that from his crew. He laughed and made jokes as he had always done.

Spock went about his duties in his normal, quietly efficient manner. Kirk and McCoy both made attempts to break through the icy mask of indifference Spock had folded about himself but they were both repulsed – Kirk politely, and McCoy not so politely.

'It really worries me, Jim,' McCoy had confided to Kirk, in the half-grumbling tone which never quite hid his deep concern for Spock's welfare. 'He doesn't talk about her at all and he cuts me stone dead if I bring her into the conversation. It's as if he's pretending she never existed, and it can't be healthy. Has he said anything to you?'

'Not at all,' Kirk admitted reluctantly. 'Bones, you know I thought you were wrong when you said you thought Spock cared about Sally. But now… now I'm not so sure.'

'Of course I was right,' McCoy snapped, 'I'm always right. I wish you'd talk to him, Jim. You'd be able to get more out of him than I would.'

And Kirk, knowing that McCoy's insistence was not prompted by idle curiosity, had agreed.

Kirk always entered Spock's cabin with a sense of reluctance. Anywhere else on the ship was neutral territory where he could feel entirely at ease with his First Officer but the alienness of the decoration in Spock's quarters always served to emphasise the gulf between them. In recent years Kirk had almost forgotten the gulf ever existed; now, it yawned treacherously beneath his feet.

'Captain,' Spock said, rising from his desk as Kirk entered. 'This is an unexpected honour. Please, be seated.'

Kirk did as he was bid, saying,

'I hope I'm not interrupting anything important.'

'Nothing that cannot wait,' Spock replied, pushing the viewer to one side and shuffling his already neat notes into an even neater pile. He then folded his hands loosely in front of him and half lifted an eyebrow at Kirk. 'What may I do for you?'

Kirk, with absolutely no idea how to start this conversation, opened his mouth in the hope that something sensible would come out of it and glanced round the room looking for inspiration.

'So you have it,' was what he eventually said.

Spock followed his gaze. The statue of the T'Aramu gleamed mutely in the far corner of the study area, enigmatic and silent as its inspiration had never been.

'Miss McKenna gave it to me for safe-keeping. Until…' Spock broke off, abruptly.

'I never told you how beautiful I thought it was,' Kirk said gently.

'It could not have failed to be so, given the model. Although I do not believe it does her justice.'

There was a short silence.

'Is she dead, Spock?' Kirk asked quietly.

The hands on the desk tightened until the knuckles showed white. Then Spock lifted his eyes and looked directly at Kirk for the first time since he had entered the room.

'I am absolutely certain she is not, Jim. I do not say that to give you hope. I do not know where she is, nor how to find her. It is quite possible we may never find her. But it may comfort you to know she is still alive.'

'Does it comfort you?'

'I… would prefer to have her here, where she belongs.'

'Yes,' Kirk said. 'So would I prefer it. If she were dead, I could mourn her and move on. But I have never believed that she is and it's so difficult, Spock, to go on day after day knowing she's out there somewhere and might need me, might miss me as much as I miss her and I can't get to her… I lie awake at night hoping that the link will come to life. Sometimes I even dream it has, and I can hear her calling me…'

A flame lit briefly in the centre of Spock's eye and died again as swiftly.

So he, too, had had that dream.

'We will find her, Jim,' Spock said intensely, repeated the words Kirk had spoken to him on Ankarda. 'However long it takes, we will find her.'

Six months had passed.

Kirk was asleep, and dreaming.

He was on a ship. Not the 'Enterprise'; too small, and too cramped but a beauty in her own way, with every scrap of space utilised. The deck under his feet was rolling uncontrollably.

Spock, we're under attack! Mr Sulu, arm photon torpedoes…

Spock…?

He jerked awake, sweating.

Just a nightmare, and a commonplace one at that. He kept dreaming of that ship, of fighting some unknown enemy. It always felt so real…

Time to consult McCoy, he thought wryly. He lay back, willing himself to relax.

He was slipping back into sleep when Sally's voice came screaming into his brain.

-Jim, Spock, help me! Help me!-

Kirk was out of bed, dressed, with his hand on the intercom button before he even realised he had moved.

It _had _been real. It had happened, and to Sally. Desperation had given life to the link and she had called him.

'Jim…'

Spock was at the door, moving into the room without asking for permission, something he had never done before, would never have done under other circumstances, paler than Kirk had ever seen him.

They stared at each other for a long moment. The Vulcan had himself well under control but nothing could hide the fierce light of triumph on his face.

'Do you know where she is, Spock?' Kirk said at last.

'Not precisely, Captain. However, I believe I can provide Mr Sulu with co-ordinates that are within 0.02 degrees of her position.'

'That's precise enough for me,' Kirk said, with a laugh that was nearly a sob. 'Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go bring her home.'

He moved towards Spock, was about to pass him when some impulse made him reach out and grasp the lean shoulder. Spock did not flinch from the touch; even, for once, seemed to welcome it.

Their gazes met, and held. Kirk struggled for the words to say, but it was Spock who said them in the end. Quietly, but with savage joy in the tone, not caring that Kirk heard it, he said,

'She is alive, Jim. And kicking.'

The bridge came to full muster very quickly. Kirk did not know how, but word had spread round the ship like wildfire. Even McCoy was there, offering no excuses for his presence and not being asked for any, either.

'I have Mr Spock's co-ordinates fed into navigation now, sir,' Sulu said to Kirk. His face was beaming.

'Very good, Mr Sulu. Would you care to tell me just where the minx managed to end up?'

'It's the Epsilon Centauri system, sir. Light years away from Ankarda.'

Spock, seated at his station beside the library computer, said very deliberately,

'It is also the system which last reported sighting the 'Horizon', sir.'

Kirk looked back at him over his shoulder and then at McCoy, standing at the side of the captain's chair.

'Kerad's ship? I wonder…. Well, never mind. Ahead warp factor five, Mr Sulu. Let's go get her.'

'Aye, aye, sir,' Sulu said, with immense satisfaction.

Of course, it was not quite as immediate as that.

The journey itself took four days, four days during which Kirk wavered between hope at the prospect of finding her and fear of what he would discover. Now that a reunion seemed possible, he had time to wonder more often exactly what had happened to the link, and to her. What if she had closed it down voluntarily, because she did not want to be found? If her mind had been damaged, if she had been hurt so badly he would not recognise her?

Those four days seemed longer than all the months which had gone before.

No-one else admitted to having such dark fears although Spock was behaving with such stolidity that Kirk believed he, too, was dreading this meeting. McCoy wandered about the ship with a grin suggesting he had swallowed a canary and half a gallon of cream into the bargain. Uhura started singing again and could be heard joyfully humming snatches of song during quiet moments on the bridge. Scott, for once making no complaint about the extra performance being asked of his beloved engines, deserted his technical journals in favour of stocking up with Sally's favourite beverages. Sulu got himself a haircut and Kirk thought he detected a general sprucing up of all the young men on board.

Only Kirk seemed to be afraid that this time, he might not be able to pick up where they had left off, that too much might have changed. That he might not know her…

Sulu turned from his board to look at Kirk, a puzzled expression on his face.

'We're here, sir,' he said. 'These are the co-ordinates Mr Spock gave us.'

Kirk regarded the viewing screen thoughtfully. There was nothing in sight. No planet, capable of supporting life or not, no ship. Just the blackness of space, bejewelled with stars.

There had been no further communication from Sally. Since that single, panic stricken scream, the link had been as silent again as it had been over the last six months. Kirk swung round in his chair, looking at Spock who shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly.

'Nothing, Captain,' he said, answering the unspoken question.

'Okay,' Kirk said, swinging back to face the screen, 'nothing to play but hunches, ladies and gentlemen, and let's hope I haven't lost the knack… Sulu, forward at sub-light speed only. Mr Spock, full forward scan. If you come up with anything bigger than a hunk of rock, start shouting. Uhura, begin broadcasting our identity signal. If you get an answer, be it in Romulan, Klingonese or Swahili, I want you to start shouting too. Clear?'

He leaned back in his chair, watching his people work quietly and efficiently around him. He might have the hunches but it was the men and women of his crew who did the work. There wasn't another crew in Star Fleet who could match them.

For the first time in four days, Kirk smiled.

'Sir,' Spock said suddenly from his station some hours later, 'I have something on the scanner now. Too small for an asteroid or planet… It's a ship, sir. And accelerating.'

'Uhura?' Kirk snapped.

'I'm broadcasting at full power, sir. No way to know if they're picking us up.'

'Sulu,' Kirk said, 'get after it.'

Sulu's hands flew over his board and the ship began to vibrate gently around them as the warp engines took over. Uhura kept up a running commentary from her communications console.

'Still no ident but they must have picked us up by now… they're running, sir, no doubt about it.'

'Not a starship or a cruiser,' Spock announced, adding his mite of information. 'Too small and too fast… close enough to put on screen now.'

At the farthest edge of the screen there appeared a small, glowing dot. Without waiting for Kirk's command, Spock increased magnification to full.

McCoy was disgorged from the elevator and came to stand at Kirk's side. The bridge crew stared at the screen for a long moment in silence. Then Kirk said,

'Very fast, Mr Spock. A fighter. The 'Horizon', in fact.'

'Jim.' McCoy said uncertainly, 'she couldn't have gone with him willingly… could she?'

Kirk sat, grim faced, staring at the screen.

'Only one way to find out,' he said eventually. 'Uhura, transmit this.

'Kirk to Kerad. We are not pursuing you with hostile intent. Request that you stop your ship and allow myself and First Officer to come aboard and confer with you on a matter of importance. Repeat, we are not pursuing you with hostile intent. Keep sending that til you get an answer.'

McCoy opened his mouth to protest, took a look at Kirk's face, and wisely decided to hold his peace.

The only sound on the bridge for three minutes was the soft background hum of the bridge equipment and the sharp clicking of Uhura's console.

'She's slowing, sir!' Sulu exclaimed.

'Message coming in,' Uhura stated simultaneously. She frowned for a moment in concentration, then said, 'Message reads: Kerad to Kirk. Permission to come aboard granted. Yourself and First Officer only. That's all, sir.'

'You could be walking into a trap, Jim,' McCoy pointed out, but mildly, for Kirk's face still wore that grim, concentrated look.

'Tell Scott to get ready to beam us over as soon as we're in range,' Kirk said to Uhura, as if he had not heard McCoy speak. 'Spock, with me. Sulu, take the conn.'

'Jim,' McCoy said softly, grasping his arm as he rose. Kirk shook himself free and said, so quietly that not even Spock heard him,

'I have to do this. I have to know.'

McCoy let him go without another word.

There was no conversation between Spock and Kirk on their way to the transporter room.

It was not possible that she had gone with Kerad of her own volition, without a word to Kirk. He was absolutely certain of that. But what was left? That she had been forced, kidnapped, held as a prisoner against her will? Blackmailed into silence and submission by threats? Kirk was not sure he would not prefer that scenario to the only other alternative – that she was not with Kerad at all.

Kirk's first thought as he stepped down from the transporter platform on the 'Horizon' was, 'I have been here before.'. It was a feeling which grew stronger as they were led through the narrow corridors, down the carefully padded stairwell (no room for elevators on this ship) and finally into Kerad's cramped cabin which did duty as reception room as well. This was the ship Kirk had been dreaming of in the past few weeks. The lack of space, the streamlining of everything not absolutely necessary, even fine details like the logo of flames entwined with stars on the cabin doors, he had seen it all.

She was here. She had to be here.

Kerad rose from behind his desk to greet them. He was paler than Kirk remembered him and there was, unsurprisingly, a watchful quality about his gaze. The arm Spock had broken hung a little stiffly at his side and something about his expression suggested he had neither forgotten nor forgiven that incident.

'Captain Kirk,' he said, courteously enough, 'and Commander Spock. My congratulations, gentlemen. I thought I had left no trail to follow.'

'We haven't been looking for you,' Kirk said, not even attempting to emulate the tone. 'We found you by accident.'

'Oh?' Kerad gestured for them to be seated but the watchful look did not abate. 'Then to what circumstance do I owe the… honour of this visit?'

'We hope you will be able to help us trace a member of my crew.' Kirk didn't sit. Neither did Spock. Without benefit of telepathy, Kirk could feel the Vulcan's mind searching, questing… 'We lost her on Ankarda. Her name is Sally Kilsyth. You might recall her.'

'Of course,' Kerad said at once. 'She was too beautiful to forget. You lost her, you say? How was that?'

'Not important,' Kirk said brusquely. 'Have you seen her, that's all I want to know.'

'We have been in space since we left Ankarda, Captain,' Kerad said, in a tone so polite it was insolent. 'Your Federation has made it impossible for us to be anything but fugitives. I carry a crew of five, whom you are welcome to meet. Unless we have a stowaway – and we would surely have found her by now if we had – she is not aboard this ship. I cannot help you.' His voice was final and dismissive.

Completely ignoring the latter part of this speech, Kirk said,

'I would like to meet your crew.'

Kerad's eyes narrowed at the words, which were not phrased as a request.

'It will serve no purpose, Captain.'

'I would still like to meet them,' Kirk said inflexibly.

Kerad shrugged.

'If you insist, then.' He leaned over to the intercom and spoke into it. The ship was so small Kirk could hear the words echo.

'Ace – leave Valya on the bridge and come down with the others.'

He is being too bloody co-operative, Kirk thought. It's not in character. He'd much rather punch me in the face. He can't afford to aggravate us into a search, which means he has something to hide. But is it Sally? He did not turn to look at Spock but he knew the same thoughts were going through his First Officer's mind.

Kerad had left the intercom open and Kirk could hear the cheerful voices of Kerad's crew as they made their way through the ship. One of them was singing a tune Kirk recognised, but in a mournful tone which contrasted sharply with the happy sounds of her fellows.

Kerad snapped the intercom off with a sudden, sharp movement, but not quite quickly enough. Kirk and Spock had not only recognised the tune.

They had recognised the voice that sang it.

Kirk leapt for Kerad and was way too late. Spock had made a lunge from behind Kirk which carried him over the desk in one movement.

'If you do not tell me where you have her hidden,' Spock said, perfectly calmly but with a look of unbelievable savagery in his eyes, 'I shall most certainly break your neck. And then I shall tear this ship apart until I find her.'

Kerad twisted uselessly in the arms that held him. Spock tightened his grip.

'He means it, Kerad,' Kirk said, leaning over the desk towards him.

'Over my… dead body,' Kerad gasped.

'If you insist,' Spock said, tightening his grip still further. Kerad suddenly ceased to struggle, his face assuming a purple hue.

The door opened and three men entered. As they paused for a moment in astonishment at the scene confronting them, Kirk took immediate advantage of their hesitation. One of their number was already on the floor by the time the other two had moved. Kirk's fist sent another one sailing over the desk to Spock, who removed one arm from Kerad and applied the neck pinch as the body landed. Kirk, meantime, made short work of the last man.

'You said a crew of five, Kerad,' Kirk said, delighted to be able to let the fury show in his voice at last. 'One is on the bridge. Three are here. _Where is the other one?_'

'This is a very small ship, Captain,' Spock remarked, in a tone quite at variance with the expression still in his eyes. 'We can search it quite easily.'

'You don't understand,' Kerad croaked, scrabbling desperately at the vice-like grip on his throat.

'C'mon, Spock,' Kirk said impatiently, heading for the door.

'Wait!' Kerad said, managing to duck the neck pinch Spock had aimed at him. Kirk paused, turned back to look at him.

'Well?' he said. The single syllable seemed to hang in the air forever.

'I'll take you to her,' Kerad said at last. 'It will do you no good. You will wish you had never found her.'

'We will decide that,' Kirk returned harshly. 'Move, Kerad.'

Kerad walked out into the corridor, massaging his neck with hands that were unsteady. He led them just two doors down, pressed a switch set into the wall and stood back for them to enter.

'You first,' Kirk said. 'No tricks.'

Kerad shrugged and did as he was bid.

They saw her as soon as they were inside the room. It was furnished as a mess and Sally sat cross-legged on a couch. She wore black trousers and top and her hair flamed around her head, dimming everything in the room. She was still singing softly to herself as they entered, but she broke off to look at them, her violet eyes widening in surprise. At a table close by her sat a woman who seemed to watch her but Kirk could not spare eyes for her for long.

It was over. He could not believe they had found her at last.

Close on that thought came the anger.

He took a step towards her, letting the rage show on his face. She blinked, but she did not move.

'Sally, how the hell could you do this? How could you leave us without a word? We thought you were dead, or worse. And you've been here all the time, probably indulging your instincts, while we've been going out of our minds with worry…'

'Captain,' Spock said very quietly from behind him, 'she does not hear you. Look at her. Closely.'

Kirk looked.

And this time, he saw.

He saw the blankness in the eyes, the rigidity of the beautifully expressive face. He saw that Sally, who could only sit still for moments, was now as motionless as stone. He saw the hands, dead and flaccid, resting in her lap. Saw her eyes move to Kerad and heard the flat and dull voice when she said,

'Who are they?'

'This is one of her good days,' Kerad said. He was slumped in a chair, drinking coffee. Kirk, stunned that all his fears had been realised, was sipping his and wishing desperately it was something stronger. Spock had refused even that and was sitting beside Kirk, upright in a way that suggested only the effort of that iron will kept him from slumping as Kerad did.

'When I first brought her aboard, she could not even speak. There as still days she does not recognise me, and she has never learned to recognise my crew… The knife wound was severe, but not deadly; it damaged no major organs. I have had her seen by the best doctors in the galaxy. There is no physical cause. They believe the mind is still there, but it is unreachable. There is no hope, Captain.'

'Why did you not bring her back to us?' Spock asked. His voice was as dead and toneless as Kirk had ever heard it.

'I love her,' Kerad said matter-of-factly. There was a faint, defiant smile on his face as he looked at Kirk. 'I don't expect you to understand that, of course. When I first saw her on Ankarda, she was so pretty, so valiant, so full of life. I wanted her. I took her with me because I am used to taking what I want. By the time I discovered there was no hope of recovery, it was too late; she had come to depend on me and I… in a strange way, I depend on her. She reminds me there is still innocence in this savage universe I live in. And now, I suppose, you will want to take her away.'

'We must, Kerad,' Kirk said gently. There was no anger left in him. Although he could find no excuses for Kerad's action in keeping Sally from them for all those months, without him Sally might not have lived through them at all, and for that reason Kirk must always be grateful to him. He could even find it in himself to sympathise with the hopelessness of Kerad's affection for Sally. Whatever the future held for her, Kirk would have the memory of her love for him and his crew. Could remember her as she had been.

Kerad would have no such memories to comfort him.

Kirk glanced over to where Sally was still sitting. The woman, Valya, maintained a watchful eye upon her though it hardly seemed necessary; she had not moved since they had all entered the room. There had not been the slightest sign of recognition from her. The only person she reacted to was Kerad, and that infrequently.

'Why do you have her watched?' Spock said.

'She wanders, sometimes,' Kerad replied. 'And five days ago, there was an outburst…'

'Five days ago?' Kirk pricked up his ears. 'What kind of outburst?'

'We ran into an asteroid storm and the rolling of the ship unsettled her. She was restless all day, pacing round and round this room… and then, early in the morning, she began to scream…'

'What did she scream?' Kirk demanded.

'Nothing that made sense. Valya thought it was Vulcan. Nothing we did calmed her down. She cried for an hour or more. Then she sat down and went to sleep in an instant. Almost as if she had wanted to do something and knew she had finally managed it.'

'I think she did manage it,' Kirk said quietly, with a glance at Spock. 'Kerad, I don't care what all those doctors you took her to said. Sally brought us here and if her mind had the strength to do that then it can be reclaimed. We'll get her back.'

'I hope you can. I've heard good things about your doctor – McCoy, isn't it?' He stood up and said, 'I suppose we'd better get it over with.'

He went over to Sally and drew her gently to her feet. She smiled at him trustingly and leaned against him, unresisting. Over her head, Kerad said brusquely, 'I'm coming with you. She knows me. She may need me.'

Kirk nodded abrupt agreement. Kerad began to lead Sally towards the door. Her steps were slow and as they reached the door she stumbled. Kirk, a step or two behind them, reached forward hastily and grasped her arm to stop her from falling.

The scream cut though him like a knife, tearing into his brain with an agony that was worse, far worse, than the pain she had inflicted when she first burned in the link between them.

-Jim, Spock, I need you. Help me. Help me!-

Kirk fell to his knees, ashen faced, clinging to Sally's arm as if it were a support. The screaming went on and on and on…

Spock, on legs that were unsteady, weaved his way over to them and forcibly pulled Kirk's hand away. The screaming stopped as suddenly as if he had pulled a switch.

Kerad was looking at them both with utter amazement on his face.

'What's wrong? Are you ill?'

Kirk pulled himself to his feet using a nearby chair as a ladder and then sat down on it with a thump because his legs had given way. Spock remained standing, but looked none too certain such a state of affairs was likely to continue.

'You heard nothing,' Kirk said to Kerad when he was able to speak.

'There was nothing to hear,' Kerad retorted.

'Oh, yes, there was. Indeed there was,' Kirk replied, starting to laugh. 'My God, Spock, she knows we're here. She _knows._'

'Your logic is impeccable, Captain. I concur.'

Kerad looked down at Sally's calm face. The expression had not wavered for an instant. His arms tightened round her; it was a gesture of protection.

'Are you both mad? I think you must be.'

'Kerad, I can't explain,' Kirk said, sobering up rapidly. 'There's a great deal you don't know about Sally – how could you, after all? – and that includes what her mind is capable of. Just believe me. She knows we're here.'

'I hope you're right, Captain,' Kerad said. 'I would rather lose her altogether than condemn her to this for the rest of her life.' He added, with an obvious effort, 'I am not a man who admits to mistakes, but I may have been wrong not to let you know where she was when I first knew that her mind was damaged. Do you think she would forgive me?'

Shit, thought Kirk. This is going to get messy. He really does care about her. Aloud, he said,

'Believe me, she's probably the most understanding woman in the galaxy.'

'You're taking it for granted she'll recover, aren't you?'

'Yes,' said Kirk. 'Of course.'

This was a very different homecoming.

No party planned, no young men lining the corridor outside her cabin, no gay shouts of welcome from every intercom. Although almost everyone knew Kirk and Spock had boarded Kerad's ship in search of her, only Scott, McCoy and Uhura knew she had actually been found. Kirk had decided against a general announcement. Time enough for that when she was herself again.

When – or if…

Scott beamed them aboard himself and McCoy met them in the transporter room with a stretcher team beside him. He took Sally from Kerad's arms almost before the beams had released them and made no comment on Kerad's presence. Later Kirk realised the doctor had not even begun to register that Kerad was there, had eyes only for the precious burden that he bore.

McCoy laid her on the stretcher, smoothing a hand over the pale forehead, pushing back the riotous curls so he could look into the eyes.

'Oh, my God, Jim,' he said. 'She's really here.'

Spock stepped off the transporter platform in Kirk's wake. His face had closed completely and Kirk, glancing at him, found it hard to credit he had seen those eyes blaze with savage joy when the link had finally screamed into life. He was watching the scene before him with quiet, calm composure, almost as if he had no interest in the outcome.

Scott was peering over McCoy's shoulder, touching Sally's hand lightly as if he needed that physical confirmation to prove he was not dreaming.

There was a moment of electric, motionless silence.

Typically, it was McCoy who moved first. His instincts as a doctor overtook his relief but he examined her without any sort of instrument; all his knowledge, all his skill, seemed to radiate visibly from his hands as he felt her pulse, ran his fingers lightly round her jaw, moved her head from side to side, pulled up the eyelids to stare deeply into the blank violet eyes.

'Well?' Kirk demanded impatiently.

'Who d'ya think I am, Marvo the Magician?' McCoy responded acidly, nodding to the team to take the stretcher out. 'I haven't got my magic wand, Jim, I mislaid that quite some time ago.' He paused, taking in Spock's bone-white face, Kirk's clenched jaws and fists, Kerad's thin, pale-lipped mouth, and dropped the tone immediately. 'I'm sorry, Jim… I can't tell without a full physical but it looks to me like there's no physical injury which would account for this. And if I've got to play guessing games with Sally's mind…' He paused again, this time for slightly longer. 'Well, Sally's mind is about as comprehensible as that Vulcan's crazy physique. I never have been able to fathom how his body works and I probably never will – but I've saved his life more than once and I hope to God the same luck that saw me through the times I had to treat him will stay on my side now. I'll do my best, Jim.'

'I know you will,' Kirk said softly, trying to convey in his voice that the reason he expected so much of McCoy was that so often the doctor had proved equal to the task demanded of him, had more than once, in fact, seemed to have those very magical healing powers he had just disclaimed.

McCoy attempted a grin which did not quite come off.

'Go away and relax,' he told them all. 'Have a drink, play chess or re-programme the computer, if that's anyone's idea of relaxation. You could be in for a long wait. Kerad, you'd be better going back to your ship. You're no good here.'

'I would prefer to stay,' Kerad said, politely. 'If the captain permits,' he added, almost as an afterthought as McCoy left to go to Sickbay, and Kirk nodded.

'I've got a fine bottle of twenty-year-old malt in my cabin,' Scott suggested. 'Ye all look as if you could do wi' a drink – even Mr Spock.'

'Thank you, Mr Scott,' Spock replied. 'I think not. I shall be on the bridge, Captain, if I should be needed.'

"If I should be needed…" The words echoed in Kirk's mind as he followed Scott, who was attempting to hold a conversation with a monosyllabic Kerad, down the corridor.

He had not thought about it til now, but if Sally's mind had sunk too far for McCoy to reach then Spock would be – to put it in his own terms – the only other logical candidate to attempt a cure. And in view of Kerad's claim that Sally had already been seen by the best doctors, it was quite feasible that Spock might have to try and repair her mind with Vulcan techniques. Kirk did not doubt that Spock would be willing to attempt it. But if he failed…

Kirk was not yet ready to put a name to whatever regard Spock had for Sally. The only thing he was prepared to admit to himself was that Spock stood closer to Sally than to any other woman, and by his own choice. Kirk knew his Spock too well. If the intimacy forced upon him by the link had remained entirely distasteful to him, he would have kept Sally at a distance, frozen her out with the cool, indifferent courtesy of which he was a master. What he would _not _have done was seek out her company, or engage in verbal spats with her as he had done so frequently in the months before her disappearance.

In the years since the development of his own friendship with Spock, one of Kirk's greatest fears had been that he might be killed (a not unlikely occurrence, in view of the hazards they faced) and thus deprive Spock of the only person he had permitted to get close to him. Spock's death would have been a great tragedy for Kirk, leaving a gap which could never be filled, but Kirk did have other friends. Spock had none. Friends had been there for the asking always but Spock had offered his friendship only to Kirk, in the full knowledge that if Kirk should die he would be alone as he had never been alone before.

Sally had altered the balance of that relationship. Kirk's first reaction on realising the direction things had taken had been a profound gratitude. At last, Spock had someone else in his life to turn to if the need arose.

But he also had someone else to lose.

If McCoy could not save Sally's mind, then Kirk was sure Spock would try.

And if even he could not help her, and had to blame himself for that, as Kirk knew he had blamed himself for her loss – what then?

It was the longest afternoon Kirk had ever spent.

He had a couple of much needed whiskies with Scott and left his chief engineer and Kerad in the process of becoming closely acquainted. He looked in on McCoy and was told in no uncertain terms to take himself off again. He went up to the bridge and found it running smoothly under Spock's control, with his own presence extraneous. He could have ordered Spock off duty but he knew he would do no such thing. At the moment, Spock's need for activity was probably far greater than his own.

Finally he went down to his cabin and flung himself on his bed with a book. He read a dozen pages without taking in a word.

He kept seeing her face. Sally's physical beauty was a thing of bone and shape, with perfect contours and features, and that she still possessed. But the woman Kirk had loved was the woman with the warm vitality which gave her the elegance and grace of movement, gave her the laughter and the wit and the sweet, flashing smile, the outbursts of temper and impatience.

The Sally whom Kirk had brought home that day was nothing but a lovely shell. Every time he tried to remember her as she had been, the image of the listless, blank-faced woman from the 'Horizon' super-imposed itself over his picture of her. He, who had believed his memories of her would be a comfort, now found them none at all. It made the contrast between past and present almost greater than he could bear.

His door buzzer sounded suddenly, startling him. He called 'Come,' and swung his feet off the bed as the door opened.

It was Kerad.

They stared at each other in silence. By all rights, they should have been deadly enemies but in that instant Kirk discovered they were friends, and was glad of it.

'I don't want to interrupt,' Kerad said hesitantly.

'Oh, hell, you're not,' Kirk replied, standing up. 'I was starting to get morbid, quite frankly. Sit down.'

'I won't talk if you don't want me to,' Kerad said, still in that hesitant tone. 'I just… Mr Scott had to go down to engineering. He gave me the run of the officer's lounge, but I didn't want to be alone. So I came to find you.'

Kirk thought back down the years to that first, and only, night with Sally. She had used almost the same words, with almost the same expression on her face as Kerad had now. The similarity was not lessened by the difference in sex, for in his way Kerad was as beautiful as Sally. It was an entirely masculine beauty but it was a little unsettling all the same. The cruelty in the lines around the eyes and mouth seem to have found its way there by accident, did not belong on that classically proportioned face.

And what would Sally make of him, when she was herself again? Kirk was beginning to realise that the questions were endless and not all of the answers might be pleasant.

As unsure as he was about Spock's feelings for Sally, he was even less certain about Sally's feelings for Spock. In fact, she was one of the few women he had met who had never shown even the smallest inclination to succumb to the almost magnetic spell the Vulcan generated, quite unconsciously, towards the opposite sex. Given her previous predilection for the buccaneering type, Kerad was probably much more her style.

Kerad had seated himself at Kirk's desk and did not seem to be disconcerted by the fact that Kirk had been staring fixedly at him for five minutes without saying a single word. Judging by the expression on his face, he was involved in some not so pleasant reflections of his own.

So they sat in silence until the intercom called them to sickbay.

To be continued…

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

Chapter Eight – Void (continued)

Sally had been in the dark place for a long time.

She liked it there. It was peaceful. Nothing disturbed her. She was very tired, she deserved to rest.

She knew there was something missing, but thinking hurt her. It was far easier to drift in the darkness, letting her thoughts slide over the surface of her mind without attempting to catch hold of them. She was afraid to examine them, because one day she might realise what it was she had mislaid. Despite this, the sense of loss began to become more and more intolerable.

For a while, the people around her had been no more than shadows and voices. Eventually she began to recognise Kerad because he was there so often, his voice breaking through the cloud of numbness that surrounded her brain. Even so, sometimes she would feel betrayed when she heard him. His was the wrong voice. There was another voice she wanted and it was never there.

One day – or night, she was not sure which – the pain of loss was so huge, so powerful, she screamed out –Jim, Spock, help me! Help me! - not knowing why she did so. And then she slipped back into the dark place feeling oddly comforted.

'I can't do anything for her, Jim.' McCoy spoke wearily. It was the third time he had said the words but Kirk still didn't look as if he believed him.

'There must be something,' Kirk said stubbornly.

'Look, Jim,' McCoy said patiently, striving to keep the useless exasperation out of his voice, 'I admit the medical field has made gigantic strides in treating the mind in the last century. But all the PSI factors are pretty much incomprehensible. Even the Vulcans, who are born telepathic, don't claim to understand the whys and hows of it. I can measure it, chart it, test it, I can even tell you what's happened to her – or, at least take a pretty good guess. But I can't cure her.'

'Well?' said Kerad dully, from Kirk's side. 'What has happened to her?'

'When she was attacked, she was using her power more fully that she's ever had to before. She was shielding the four of us and holding off the whole of Kerad's forces into the bargain…'

'I don't understand,' Kerad interrupted. 'You mean it was she who was responsible… Is that what you meant? When you said there was a lot about her I didn't know?'

'She's one of the most powerful telepaths yet discovered,' Kirk said. 'And she's contacted us from wherever she is. Which is why Spock and I are convinced that her mind is still there, and active.'

'I didn't say it wasn't,' McCoy snapped. 'I'm saying _I _can't get to it. Jim, the shock of the attack forced her power back on itself. Folded it in on itself, if you like. It has cut off her mind completely because she is just as powerful as she ever was, but now she's fighting against us.'

'Fighting against us?' Kirk repeated. 'Are you telling me she doesn't _want_ to come out of it?'

'That's exactly what I'm saying. Wherever she is, she's quite happy.'

'I don't believe it. She called to us, Bones. Twice. She needs us.'

'Then _you_ try to get through to her!' McCoy shouted, his temper finally beginning to crack. 'I've tried everything I know, and it hasn't made the slightest impression.'

It was Kerad, his face set in lines of despair, who spoke first.

'You must not blame yourself, Dr. McCoy. Others have failed before you and perhaps others may fail in the future. You love her and you tried. It is enough.'

'It's not enough!' McCoy cried. 'That's our Sally in there, and I can't help her. I'm a doctor, godammit!'

Kerad reached down and gripped his shoulder sympathetically. Kirk, watching him, found it very hard to equate this sensitive and kind man with the firebrand who had been the cause of so much destruction on Ankarda. He left them and wandered through to sickbay where Sally lay, asleep in solitary state. She had been dressed in her own robe, so achingly familiar to Kirk: he could not believe that her eyes would not open and look at him with recognition.

He perched himself on the bed beside her, watching her breast rise and fall with the slow rhythm of her breathing. Her face was turned away from him and her hair had fallen across it. He brushed it back gently and she stirred, murmuring something under her breath.

'Sally?' Kirk said experimentally. 'Sally, it's Jim. Wake up, Sally.'

She yawned suddenly and stretched luxuriously, so much in her old manner that Kirk held his breath, waiting for her to speak. But she just rolled over and slipped back into sleep again.

Spock had come into the room so silently that he was standing at Kirk's side before Kirk was aware he was not alone any more. He glanced up into the Vulcan's face hopefully and looked away again immediately. There was that in it which he did not feel it right for him to see.

'You've spoken to McCoy?'

'Indeed, Captain. The prognosis does not seem hopeful.'

'No,' Kirk agreed bleakly. 'It doesn't. But she's still there, Spock. I know she is.'

'I do not believe that medical science holds the answer to our problem. PSI, although demonstrably a fact, does not lend itself to categorisation. It cannot be seen, there is no way of knowing in what part of the mind the sickness lies. The good doctor was at a disadvantage from the first.'

'Do you have any suggestions?'

'There are healers on Vulcan experienced in dealing with telepathic disorders. It may be necessary to call on them as a last resort.'

'A _last_ resort?' Kirk repeated. 'Do you mean there's something we could still try? Something you could do?'

'I know the basic methods of mind-search, of course. It would not be enough under normal circumstances…' Kirk watched the Vulcan swallow, and hesitate. He did not try to prompt or anticipate him. The entry into another's mind, for whatever reason, was a grave responsibility for any Vulcan and for Spock, particularly, an appallingly intimate act that exposed much of what he would prefer to keep hidden.

'Jim, the link may be dead but I suspect the pathway still exists,' Spock said eventually.

'Then you can follow that pathway, and find her?'

'Not I, Captain. We. I do not believe that one of us, alone, would be successful.'

Kirk moved swiftly away from the bed, going to the open door. McCoy was still sitting at his desk. Kerad beside him, and the dawning optimism on their faces told him they had heard something of that quiet conversation.

'We are not to be disturbed, Bones. Not for any reason.'

McCoy nodded quickly and Kirk palmed the door shut.

'Show me what to do,' he said to Spock.

Again there was hesitation on Spock's face, even reluctance, and again Kirk knew why. They would have to find the link and re-create it, bind Sally to them as irrevocably as before in order to pull her from wherever she was.

They would also have to cope with the failure if they did not succeed.

Spock laid his hand gently along one side of Sally's face, beckoning Kirk to do the same. There was no telepathic outcry from Sally at Kirk's touch this time.

'We must find her together, Jim. I have the knowledge and the power to do it, but she may respond more positively to your mind than to mine. For a telepath, each mind is as unique as a voice or a fingerprint and the individual forms used for communication are instantly recognisable. You have never maintained blocks towards Miss Kilsyth. She is more familiar, therefore, with your mind-print.'

'What do I have to do?' Kirk asked.

'Just reach for the link when I tell you to do so.'

Spock drew a breath and stretched out his other hand to Kirk's temple, completing the circle between himself, Kirk and Sally.

'Now, Jim,' he said.

Someone was calling Sally's name.

-Go away. I don't want you-

The voices persisted. Sally curled away from them, willing them to go and still they went on.

She looked around the dark place and there was a door. She was sure it had not been there before. She was also sure that she didn't want to go through it, but the voices were coming from behind the door. Reluctantly, because every effort hurt her, she opened it.

There was a path in front of her. She could see it vaguely, as if it were shrouded in mist, and it was dark, dark as the place she had come from, though there was a promise of light very far away.

The voices were coming from the light, she thought.

-Fine. I'll find them and make them be quiet, and then I can have peace-

She began to walk along the path. Even though she felt it was outside, perhaps in a wood, there were doors opening off it. Very odd, she thought, and opened one. It held a spinning crystal statue of a woman with wings.

-I know you. You are the T'Aramu-

The voices kept calling. She was interested now, in spite of herself. She opened another door. A silver starship.

-You are 'Enterprise'. You are my home-

Oh, but she was tired and the path seemed endless. It would be easier to go back…

-Sally. Wake up, Sally-

-Jim? Cap'n Jim? I have missed you. But I want to rest, to go back to the darkness…-

And still, still, with the memories coming back, there was the awful sense of loss, the feeling that something she wanted was not there, it was growing, it was huge, she was tired, she could not reach the end…

Through the shadows, a hand reached out to her.

-Sally, I command you. Come back-

-It was you. I have missed you-

'Spock,' said Sally with absolute certainty, and woke up.

Gently, Spock prised Kirk's hand away from Sally's face. His own right hand remained resting against her skin for a moment longer until the violet eyes opened and gazed directly into his. He straightened at once and said formally,

'Captain, I believe Miss Kilsyth has returned to us.'

Sally turned her head slightly to bring Kirk into her field of vision. Her lips parted. Suspended between one heartbeat and the next, Kirk waited for her to speak.

'Hi, Jim. My God, I am absolutely _starving._'

He stood rigid, afraid to move or speak in case the spell was broken and she slipped away again. She sat up, a little unsteadily, but her eyes were shining and a smile was quirking across her mouth.

'It's wonderful to see you both,' she said with satisfaction. After a moment, this speech seemed to puzzle her, and she frowned.

'That's strange. I feel like I've been away. Have I?'

'Yes, Sally,' Kirk said, his voice breaking, 'you have been away.'

When he had thought she might be dead, through all the long months of not knowing where she was, through the uncertainty of that day, he had held himself together. Now, with the link tingling with renewed vigour in his mind and his lovely Sally starting to glow with the animation he had so desperately wanted to see, he no longer had need of that strictly maintained control.

'Oh, Jim, don't…' She was out of bed and in his arms, holding him with a strength that must have come from willpower alone for she, weak as she was, was supporting him. His rested his head against the warm skin of her throat, breathing the fragrance that was part of her alone without benefit of perfume, feeling her mind slip into his with comfort, and with love.

Over his head, Sally's eyes met Spock's. The Vulcan nodded slightly and left the room in silence.

Kirk's need for her at that moment was far greater than his own.

Together again, at last.

Sally had been installed in her own cabin on condition that she stay in bed and McCoy himself sat by her to ensure she followed his orders to the letter. So she received her visitors lying in state, looking like a medieval queen after her accouchement, dressed in her tapestry robe, fully made up and her hair falling over her shoulders in a stream of flames. She wore sparkling gems in her ears and every time she laughed they flashed points of light around the room.

And she laughed often. There were rarely fewer than twenty people in the cabin at a time, not including Kirk, Spock, McCoy , Uhura and Kerad who remained with her throughout the evening.

Kerad had been uneasy with her at first, skating round the edges of the conversation and avoiding her gaze. Kirk watched, half amused and half perturbed, as Sally quite deliberately exerted her charisma and cajoled him into friendship. She knew, how could she not, how great a share of that thing called personality had been granted her and before Kerad had quite realised what was happening he was sitting beside her on the bed and talking to her and her friends as if he had always known them. His crew beamed over to meet the woman they had all helped care for.

The whole evening was charged with emotion. Voices laughed in a pitch that was slightly too high, eyes shone too brightly, smiles wavered half-way through. Sally, in the middle of a grin, would wipe a tear from her face.

How much she remembered of her limbo was still unclear. McCoy had thought it best not to press her for the moment.

Spock was not far from her side all evening, unobtrusively there so that there were times Kirk was surprised to see him still in the room. Sally looked his way from time to time, but Kirk saw no word pass between them.

There was, after all, so little need for words between Spock and Sally.

'Alright, everyone,' McCoy said finally. 'Out. Time for the lady to get some sleep.' He began to usher people from the room, ignoring Sally's loud protests. Under the glow of bright gaiety, her face had begun to look strained and Kirk, seeing this, rounded up the stragglers.

Kerad rose reluctantly from his post beside Sally.

'May I come back tomorrow?' he asked.

Sally reached out, grasped his shirt, pulled him down and kissed him full on the lips. Kirk had no doubt that, had it not been for the presence of others in the room, she would have invited him between the sheets in very short order. He could not resist a glance at Spock but, if the Vulcan had seen that little exchange, it had not made any difference to his expression. Kirk sighed, bid Kerad good night, flicked Sally's cheek affectionately and joined McCoy at the door.

'Coming, Spock?' he said.

'I'd like a word with him first,' said Sally.

'Can't it wait?' McCoy asked. 'You need some sleep and God knows Spock's not the soporific I'd choose – though he might bore you to sleep, I suppose.'

'Good night, Doctor,' Sally retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

Kirk chuckled and drew McCoy out into the corridor. It was good to hear McCoy snipe at Spock again; for so long now he had not had the heart for it.

'Come and have a drink before you turn in, Bones,' he suggested.

'Couldn't have thought up a better prescription myself,' McCoy replied. 'Lead me to it.' He took two or three quick steps down the corridor, turned, and grasped Kirk's arm strongly.

'She'll be alright, Jim. Won't she?'

'Oh, yes,' Kirk said. 'She will now.'

Once she was sure McCoy had departed, Sally swung her legs out of bed and padded silently on bare feet to the cupboard where she kept her supply of alcohol. She poured two brandies, one considerably larger than the other.

'I would have done that,' Spock said from behind her. 'Or you could, without the unnecessary exertion.'

'I wanted to move,' Sally said, going back to bed and handing Spock the smaller of the two brandies on her way past. 'I expect you need that. I know I do.'

Spock remained standing. He had the unpleasant suspicion that if he did not need alcoholic support at that moment he was likely to do so in the very near future, so he did not disagree. To forestall what he knew would be a difficult conversation, he said abruptly,

'I have something for you.'

'Oooh, presents, what fun,' Sally said, taking the small package from him. She unwrapped a little silver charm bracelet, beautifully crafted, with half a dozen tiny charms already in place; a star, a little 'Enterprise' among them. 'It's gorgeous but why…'

'There is no reason why a thing cannot be aesthetically pleasing as well as functional. You would not wear it were it not attractive to you, I suspect. Each charm has a transponder embedded into it. If you were to… disappear again, we would be able to track you with it. I suggest you wear it each time you leave the ship.'

'Oh,' Sally said thoughtfully. 'So we're belling the cat now, are we?'

'Belling the cat?' Spock looked puzzled. 'I am not familiar with that idiom.'

'Oh, come on, I'm sure the Vulcans must have some equivalent of the fable. The cat in the tale kept killing mice because it moved so silently none of them could hear it until it was too late. So one brave mouse volunteered to tie a bell around its neck, and then they always knew where it was. And now you'll always know where I am. Are you sure that's necessarily a good thing? I end up in some strange places, you know.'

'The captain,' Spock said, choosing his words very carefully, ' was extremely… distressed at your absence. I would prefer him not to have to endure that again.'

'Jim was?' Sally asked. Her head was bent as she fastened the bracelet round her wrist. 'Were you?'

He had not been expecting such a direct question, and he had no reply prepared. She looked up at him, and he knew his face had given an answer he would never have given her verbally.

'So,' was all she said. 'In any case, thank you. For the gift, for sparing Jim, and for my life.'

One does not thank logic,' Spock replied immediately, using the same words and even the same intonation once used by his father to his mother. This part of the conversation he _had _prepared. Sally, however, was not Amanda as she promptly demonstrated.

'And who the hell is he? I saw no-one called 'logic' when I woke up today. I saw you, and Jim. You were in my mind not six hours ago, Spock, did you really believe I would be taken in by that 'logic' crap – this time?'

Had she ever been taken in by it? Spock was inclined now to doubt it. He tried again.

'There was no other choice.'

'Yes, there was, and you know there was. You could have left me. You could have taken me to Vulcan. The link was dead, Spock. And you re-made it.'

'It was not dead, any more than your mind was. It was merely… asleep.'

'Spock,' Sally said acidly, 'Vulcans may not be able to lie but they can sure as hell cloud the issue. I _know_ that whole scene in Sickbay was unnecessary. The Vulcan healers could have cured me and dissolved the link permanently at the same time. I know it because _you_ know it. So why did you do it?'

Spock suddenly lifted the brandy to his lips and drank it. He should have acknowledged he would not be able to hide that awareness from her. He had gone to Sickbay with the intention of telling Kirk he could not help her, that she would have to go to Vulcan. But seeing her there, so lovely and so helpless in the room where he had made his vow to Taishun, seeing the despair that sat so grimly on Kirk's face dissolve into hope as he entered – he had realised then that he could not turn away and leave her as she was for one more day when it was within his power to give her mind life. The other reason – well, it was still too soon to reveal that, as that little scene with Kerad had proved.

'Will you not tell me, then?' Sally asked.

'Sally, you are alive, and you are safe. It is enough.'

'Hmmmm,' she said, and stared into her brandy glass as if she could find the answers there.

Spock had long ago admitted to himself that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, or was likely to see. The sculptured planes of her face recalled some of Vulcan's more perfect works of art, and that which Spock might previously have considered to be flaws – the mobile, laughing mouth, wont too smile too often and far too easily, the dancing eyes, the poppy red hair so vibrant as to be almost indecent –he now thought must be the finishing touches by a sure and master hand. Occasionally, he would indulge himself and watch her unobtrusively, wondering at the quicksilver way her emotions would trace a path across her face, how her movements could be sharp and impulsive at one moment, subtle and graceful the next. It was this quality of constant change which he had tried to capture in the T'Aramu and he believed he had caught some essence of her in the crystal.

Today, with relief at her recovery strong in him, he knew she must have noticed how frequently his eyes fell on her. She was as complacent as only a very beautiful woman can be about being admired, but she was not used to admiration from him. Had Spock been a man given to fanciful metaphors, he might have said the air between them was charged with electricity.

'Oh, sit down,' Sally snapped at him. The look of strain had returned to her face and Spock said uneasily,

'We should postpone this discussion…'

'Sit,' Sally commanded abruptly, 'If I have to wait any longer to say what I need to say, I will probably lose my nerve.'

Spock sat on the chair by her bed. She glanced at his uncomfortable posture and said, without humour,

'I am not going to bite you. However…'

She leaned forward suddenly with a soft swish of fabric, placing her hands gently on either side of his face before he had time to guess her intention. Accustomed as he was to her touch, this was a far more intimate gesture than he had ever permitted and it took all of his will to sit there and meet her clear, questing gaze.

'Whatever your reasons, I can't thank you enough for my life. Taishun himself could have done no more. And I thank you, too, for keeping the truth of what I did from Jim, when it would only have hurt him; and if I caused you pain, I am sorry. And if I didn't… I think I'm sorrier still. Will you tell me that, at least? Will you tell me, Spock, did you miss me?'

Spock abruptly grasped her hands in his own and brought them way from his face; but he did not release them.

'Why do you ask that?' he said, almost with anger. 'Why do you need to ask it? _I am not human._ Must you humiliate me still further by forcing the words from me?'

'That was not my intention. For heaven's sake, can we not have honesty here, between us, now? No, I see that we can't.' She pulled her hands away and put them to her own face for a second. Spock saw a tear sparkle at the end of her lashes.

'Sally, honesty comes easily to you,' he said at last. 'Few humans keep their emotions secret, you least of all. I have learned a great deal from you, but that lesson is the hardest. You have never asked more of me than I could give, in the past. Will you make demands now?'

'No,' she said quietly, but emphatically. 'Never. As you are, you have been my friend. I ask nothing more than this – that you remain so.'

'You need never doubt that,' Spock replied, putting an end to the conversation by rising to leave. She looked up at him with a rueful expression, so comic that Spock did not even try to restrain a small smile. 'I make no complaint. This time, we are linked by my will and agreement. If you see a little I wish was kept hidden… then it is a very small price to pay for your life.'

'Spock of Vulcan,' she said sleepily, 'you are a very generous man.'

He left her then, safe and secure where she belonged.

Kirk bounced on to the bridge the next morning filled with a sense of well-being and contentment. As soon as he took his seat, however, he was presented with two problems which made his mood take a rapid downward plunge.

The first was a message from Star Fleet Command. It was couched in polite and formal tones but what it boiled down to was that Doran wanted to know what the hell Kirk thought he was playing at and if he didn't have a reasonable explanation for his behaviour then he'd better come up with one pretty damn quick.

It was true that the 'Enterprise' had not been on a specific mission at the time of her sudden diversion to Epsilon Centauri. It was also true she had no business to divert there in the first place without first informing Star Fleet, something Kirk had conspicuously failed to do.

The party was over and it was time to face the music. Kirk sighed and settled back in his chair to try and think out an excuse that was both truthful and at the same time compelling enough to get him out of the mess he was undoubtedly in. His eyes automatically checked out the bridge as he mused and when his gaze fell on the viewing screen the second problem reminded him of its presence.

Kerad.

The 'Enterprise' had been heading back towards her original position since the night before. On the screen, matching her course move for move, was the 'Horizon'.

'Uhura,' he said, 'have we heard from Kerad this morning?'

'We most certainly have, sir. He's been on board since first thing and he doesn't seem to have any immediate intention of removing himself, either.'

Uhura's tone was uncharacteristically waspish but Kirk was not surprised. Their last encounter with Kerad had not been calculated to endear him to Kirk's crew and yesterday's revelations had not helped matters. It was therefore in the highest degree unlikely he would be easily accepted as persona grata on board, despite Sally's effortless forgiveness. Even Kirk could not rationally explain how it was Kerad had become a friend. The man was a wanted criminal, a pirate and a rabble-rouser. He also had, as Eowyn had pointed out, a great deal of charm. Not that Kirk thought this the only answer; he had never succumbed particularly easily to lovable rogues, witness Harry Mudd! There was something essentially decent about Kerad, something which had become twisted until it was almost, but not quite, unrecognisable.

'Where is he now, Uhura?'

'In Sally's cabin, sir,' Uhura replied neutrally.

'Ah,' Kirk said. 'Yes, I suppose he would be.' He swung round in his chair, opening his mouth to ask Uhura to raise Sally on the internal intercom.

Then he remembered.

-Sally? Can I come down?-

The link effervesced into life, laughter and sunlight encapsulated in its warm familiarity.

-Coffee's waiting, Cap'n Jim-

'Uhura, transmit to Starbase 11; Miss Kilsyth found safe and well. Further details to follow. Sulu, take the conn.'

He pushed himself out of his chair and headed for the elevator.

Kerad and Sally were waiting for him, Kerad in one of Sally's upholstered chairs and Sally herself cross legged on the floor beside him. There was a pot of coffee on the table and a cup was pouring itself as Kirk entered. Sally had obviously been up for some time as she was dressed (relatively respectably) and her face had been made up with its usual care.

'Shouldn't you be in bed?' Kirk asked, sitting down.

'Not ill,' Sally retorted indignantly. 'In fact, I feel perfectly fit and I think I should be back on duty but Bones doesn't agree.'

'I suppose you had a fight about it,' Kirk said, resigned to the fact that where Sally was, scenes of one kind or another would automatically follow.

'Of course. But he won by taking unfair advantage.'

'He pulled rank,' Kerad interposed, with a wink in Kirk's direction.

'I can imagine,' Kirk replied, remembering the various times when McCoy had done that very same thing to his captain. 'Kerad, I want to talk to you.'

'If that remark is calculated to make me leave you two alone to your masculine business, you can just forget it,' Sally said calmly, settling herself more comfortably against the arm of Kerad's chair. 'Anyway, this is _my_ cabin.'

'No point in asking you to go, I've no doubt you'd listen in,' Kirk pointed out.

'How well you know me,' she said wryly. 'C'mon then. Say your piece.'

'It's quite simple. I want to know what Kerad intends to do now.'

'Do?' Kerad repeated.

'We are on course back to Federation space. You're a wanted man there. Once we cross into it, I'll be obliged to arrest you on charges of assassination and agitation – not to mention a dozen other lesser offences which I won't go into at the moment. And I don't want to arrest you, if for no other reason than you saved Sally's life.'

Kerad's eyes rested on Sally for a long moment and Kirk saw hope shine softly there. Then it was gone and Kerad's face settled back into its familiar hawk-like lines.

'When do you cross the border, Captain?'

'This evening,' Kirk said, reluctantly.

'I will be gone long before then. And, if I were you, I would make me your scapegoat.'

'My what?'

'I told him about the message from Doran,' said Sally. 'Much though Doran loves me,' she grinned impishly, 'I suspect he won't consider me a good enough reason for careering across the galaxy without permission. If you let him think you were deliberately chasing Kerad he'll be much more sympathetic…'

'An excellent idea,' Kerad said, seeing Kirk's hesitation. 'I would be happy for you to use me so. It would make me feel that I had atoned in some way for what I did…'

'That's not necessary,' Sally interrupted softly.

'You're going to leave her,' Kirk said, relieved.

'She is where she belongs.' Kerad spoke directly to Kirk, as if Sally were not sitting between them. 'What do I have to offer her? The life of a fugitive's woman?'

'You need not always be a fugitive,' Kirk pointed out.

'Wipe the slate clean and start afresh?' Kerad gave a humourless laugh. 'Do you know what that would mean for me? At best, imprisonment. At worst, rehabilitation. Once the first step against the law was taken, I had to go on running. I expect no easy death, when it comes; but I will die as I have lived, a free man – and my own man.'

'Then you _did_ believe in what the 'Flares' stood for?'

'Even a pirate may have ideals, Captain.'

'Then why not act on them?' Kirk demanded. 'Do it now, before it's too late. Create your perfect society. You have far too much talent to waste it on destruction. Find a planet. Colonise it. Build, don't tear down. What are dreams for, if not to urge us to create a reality? Prove to the Federation you are more than a rabble-rouser, and I'll back you all the way.'

'Do it,' Sally urged. 'Please do it.'

Kerad bent down, lifting her chin with his fingertips so that she had to look straight into his eyes.

'You are so beautiful,' he said softly. 'I have travelled the galaxies from one end to the other and I have never seen your equal. Will you come with me, then, and help me build a place to match you?'

'Kerad, the Sally you love is a fantasy. She never existed.'

'I prefer the reality. She is warm, and human. She would be a courageous leader and the mother of brave sons. Marry me. Come with me.'

Kirk knew what the answer would be before she spoke, because he recognised the withdrawn expression which meant she was, however unwillingly, about to say goodbye.

'Kerad, my dear, I hope you build your world. I hope it will be everything you ever intended it would be. But I can't be part of it. You said so yourself – I am where I belong.' There were tears on her lashes. Kerad's fingertip swept upwards and removed them.

'No tears. I would remember you smiling. May I keep my dream of you?'

'If a dream is mine to give, I give it freely; and with all my heart I wish the reality were mine to give as well.'

Kerad kissed the top of her head, almost in benediction. And farewell.

A minute later he was gone and Sally was sobbing noisily into Kirk's lap.

'Did you love him, Sally?' Kirk asked, when the sobbing had subsided into sniffles.

'Well, I suppose so,' Sally admitted, looking around her in a vague kind of way for something to wipe her wet face with and eventually using the sleeve of her dress. 'Sally in the dark place did. I think Kerad may have been the one thing that saved me from total oblivion. Oh, Jim, I've been falling in love since I was twelve. All the same, he is rather special, don't you think?'

'He is. I like him myself. But I am glad you decided to stay here, with us.'

'If it hadn't meant leaving all of you, I think I might have done it,' Sally said thoughtfully. 'But having found you again… I couldn't find feelings for Kerad deep enough to warrant losing you.' She glanced up at him, smiling mischievously. ' That was my first bona-fide proposal, you know.'

There was a certain self-satisfied gleam in her eye as she spoke. Kirk studied the lovely face, which had not been marred in the slightest by the recent tears, and said,

'You ought to be safely tied up to someone, if only for the peace of mind of women less generously endowed.'

'Are you trying to get rid of me already?'

'No, hell, no, I've just found you again. But I would like to see you happy, Sally.'

'I _am _happy, Jim. Please don't go all chauvinistic on me and tell me a woman can only be really happy with a man by her side.'

'No,' Kirk said honestly, 'I think that would be a little hypocritical, in view of my own record.'

'Darling Jim, we both of us have crosses to bear which make it difficult to form lasting relationships. You have this ship, and all the people on her. I have telepathy.'

'Doesn't that make it easier?'

Sally looked at him for a long moment, biting her lip thoughtfully.

'You think so? Have you known me for so long and not realised how difficult it is? For me to have a relationship with a non-telepath is like asking a sighted person to choose to be blind, or a person with hearing to be deaf. Telepathy is a sense for me, like sight or touch, a part of my life. Think about it – with everyone but Taishun, I have less of a relationship than I do with you, or Spock. With non-telepaths, I am quite literally stuck dumb. It's like I can't talk, Jim. At least, not in a way that feels natural to me.'

'Then why…'

'Why all the men, you mean?' She grinned. 'Well, it passes the time. And I get a lot of satisfaction matching people up, you know.'

'Sally…'

'Why are you pushing this, Jim? If we're being frank, you are the last person who ought to be lecturing me on the impermanence of my relationships.'

'I agree. And that's probably why I want something better for you.'

'Are you turning into the heavy-handed big brother now?' She stood up suddenly, pushing her hair away from her head in the way she did when she was worried, or upset. 'Fine. Let's have this out, now.'

'Sally, I'm not criticising you.'

'Aren't you? Dammit, Jim, _I know what you're thinking! _ Sodding double standards, they still exist.' She was very angry now; angry enough to tell him truths she had kept silent about. 'Let's just get to the basics. Can you imagine what making love to another telepath is like? You feel everything, Jim, _everything. _Every touch is the pleasure it gives you and the pleasure it gives him. Doubled, amplified, it's like being on fire, not just the first time but every time. Nothing to explain, nothing to ask, because it's all there, laid out, laid bare, no secrets, no lies, you are him and he is you. That's what I had, Jim. That's what I miss. Always, forever. No matter how many times I try to blot it out, that memory has shadowed everything since. So don't you try and measure me against your sordid, petty morals.' She was crying again now, hardly aware of it, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Kirk didn't even try to argue with her. He just stood and held out his arms. She shook her head and he pulled her to him and he held her as she cried out everything, all of the pain and the loss, the huge grief she had carried with her.

Finally, when she was silent, she butted his shoulder with her head.

'Chauvinist pig.'

'Slut.'

'Bully.'

'Vixen.'

'Damn, I needed that. And now I am hungry again. Must be getting on for lunch-time, Cap'n Jim. Let's eat.'

Kirk, remembering that the morning's euphoria had left him disinclined for breakfast, said,

'I'm with you .'

They headed for the door, arm in arm. As they reached it, Kirk stopped short.

'Sally, while we're being serious… Is there no-one? Not even in your wildest flights of fancy?'

Sally hesitated for a split second. Then she palmed the door open and said with a smile,

'Not even then, Cap'n Jim. Not even then.'


	9. Chapter 9

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER NINE – FEI

'_How_ many?' Kirk asked, in absolute disbelief.

'Thirty four, sir,' Uhura repeated. She then clamped her teeth firmly together to stop herself from giggling.

'Is Doran out of his mind?' Kirk demanded of the bridge crew in general. 'Has he gone completely mad?' Sulu and his fellow navigator kept their gazes firmly fixed on the screen. Sulu's mouth was twitching. No-one attempted an answer. Even Spock seemed to realise the questions were rhetorical.

'What, in the name of heaven,' Kirk said, in tones of utter exasperation, 'does Doran expect us to do with thirty four children?'

'As I understand it, sir,' Spock said politely, 'he expects us to take them to Gamma Helion.'

'Fine,' Kirk said. 'Wonderful. I'm running a nursery now, am I?'

'They will have supervisors with them, sir,' Uhura offered.

'And the estimated flight time is only a week,' Spock added his mite of comfort.

Kirk did not look particularly mollified.

'A week,' he said, 'is more than long enough for thirty four children to get into mischief of one kind or another. A week is also long enough for half my female crew to discover unsatisfied urges for motherhood. What's the betting we'll have a dozen pregnancies in the next couple of months?' He threw himself into the captain's chair, frowning.

His outburst may have seemed comic to his crew, but Kirk was, in fact, seriously displeased by Doran's announcement of their latest mission. The children were presently stranded on Melian, their transport ship having suffered an asteroid collision on its way to pick them up. Unfortunately, the 'Enterprise' was close enough to be given the job instead.

Kirk was fond enough of children as individuals and regretted he had not been permitted to be part of his own son's life. But children en masse were revolting. They got into places they were not supposed to, became remarkably dirty remarkably quickly and seemed generally possessed of boundless energy which was channelled into one aim only – that of driving adults into insanity.

There was, as always, an added complication. The group of youngsters Kirk was now expected to ferry to Gamma Helion were what Star Fleet termed 'Alphas' – that is, their I.Q.'s had been measured into the two hundreds and in most cases it was suspected that it was much higher, and simply not quantifiable by their present methods. Gamma Helion's main claim to fame was that it contained the most advanced school in the galaxy. The men and women who had elected to teach there had all, at one time or another, been accorded the title 'genius'. Admittedly, this was a term bandied about too loosely these days but Kirk knew of and had met some of these teachers, and in his opinion it was deserved in all cases.

He sighed.

'How old are these children, Uhura?' he asked, in tones of resignation.

'The eldest is sixteen, sir, and the youngest five.'

'I suppose it could be worse,' Kirk said, in the kind of voice that means, but not by much. 'Arrange quarters for them please – as far away from the working areas of the ship as possible – and ask the galley to stock up on hot dogs and jelly.'

Spock had come to stand behind Kirk's chair.

'Jim,' he said, with only the faintest undercurrent of amusement in his voice, 'these are not ordinary children. I anticipate no problems.'

Which only went to prove, as Sally was to say gleefully later, that Spock of Vulcan was not only a master of understatement – he was sometimes also just plain wrong.

'I like children,' Sally said, a little breathlessly because she had just completed thirty press-ups.

'Probably because you have never grown up yourself,' Kirk said, regarding her with tolerant affection.

'Good point.' Using his knee as a lever, Sally swung herself to her feet and began to touch her toes. Kirk had interrupted her during a break between shifts, which she generally used as an exercise period these days, trying to beat her muscles back into the submissive shape they had been in before her long disappearance. Judging by the speed with which she was completing each exercise, she was succeeding admirably.

Kirk leaned back into the cosy depths of Sally's armchair and savoured the sight of his hostess's trim body as it flexed and swayed and stretched through its routine. She looked vaguely ridiculous; she was wearing one of her tiny peacock-green leotards but her hair was swept into an Edwardian topknot and studded with flowers and feathers. Having a liking for twentieth-century musicals, Sally had recently unearthed 'The Matchmaker' from the archives. Loudly and persistently declaring, 'I was born to play Dolly Levi', she had cajoled, bullied and persuaded the ship's company to put on a performance; later on that day, she was attending the first dress rehearsal. Kirk, who was fairly tone deaf, was nonetheless looking forward to the performance, if only for the fact that Sally had persuaded McCoy to take the part of Horace Vandergelder ('I can't sing, Sally.' 'You don't have to, Bones, that's the beauty of it.')

'Considering,' Sally went on, with her head approximately level with her knees, 'that I'm very nearly twenty-five years old, you'd think I'd have managed to acquire _some_ adult behaviour patterns. Do you think people every really believe they've grown up?'

'I know what you mean,' Kirk said. 'There are times when I catch sight of myself in a mirror, and I get a shock. I can't believe that old man is _me. _I see the lines on my face, the grey hairs – just a few,' he added hastily, since Sally was showing signs of trying to closely examine his hairline, 'and I think, 'That can't be me.' I don't remember growing up. Inside, I still feel sixteen.'

'Hmmm, frightening thought,' Sally said, rolling out of a handstand with a flourish, and coming to rest sprawled at his feet. 'The most powerful starship in the fleet – in the hands of a teenager.'

She was grinning at him, and the fine lines at the corner of her eyes were laughing.

'Since you like children so much, you can be ship's liaison and supervise their entertainment while they're here. I want their every waking minute occupied. I want them kept out of the crew's way. Can you handle it?'

'Free hand?' Sally asked.

'Yes,' Kirk said firmly, choosing to ignore the light of mischief in her eyes.

'You're on, Cap'n Jim. And I'm going to enjoy myself.'

Kirk did not feel bound to attend in the transporter room when his young passengers were beamed aboard from Melian two days later. He sent Sally instead and, giving way to a wicked impulse without overmuch pause, Spock.

Sally was under strict orders to stay with the party whatever happened, so Kirk was not expecting to see her again that day. However, after two hours had gone by and Spock did not re-appear. Kirk began to feel faintly surprised.

He knew that Spock, despite well-feigned indifference, was extremely fond of children – and they of him. They seemed to see past the icy Vulcan front he presented to his peers to the understanding and compassionate human underneath. Still, it was unlike Spock to allow himself to be seen in such an open role for long.

-Sally? What goes on?-

He had to repeat the question three times before the link sprang into its usual ebullient life.

-Hey, Jim. You ought to get yourself down here. You'll have to see it to believe it-

-Don't be so bloody mysterious, woman. What's happening?-

-Honestly, this you need to see for yourself-

Kirk very much doubted that anything a child got up to, even if it was a prodigy, would amaze him very much. But there had been an undercurrent of some indefinable emotion in Sally's link-voice which had interested him in spite of himself. So he gave Sulu the conn and went on down to the guest deck.

The first thing that struck him as he got out of the elevator was the silence. Almost without realising it, he had been bracing himself for an upsurge of loud, excited voices.

Wrong again, Kirk, he thought wryly, and made his way to the large rec room set aside for the children's use. The door had been left open and Kirk waited there for a moment or two, taking in the scene before him.

He saw Sally first, sitting at a round table with about a dozen children of assorted sizes, and one adult male. Sally was eating, as usual, and the man could not take his eyes off her, also as usual. She was talking in an animated fashion, completely ignoring the fact her mouth was full. He cast his eyes further round the room. Another group of children, slightly older than the ones with Sally, were with a fresh-faced woman of thirty or so, and a group of small ones were playing in a corner under the eye of a grandmotherly type.

Spock sat a little apart from the rest, facing the door and a chess board. He had a look of severe concentration on his face, by which Kirk judged he was in difficulties – a less than rare occurrence. He looked with more interest at Spock's opponent but she was facing Spock and therefore had her back towards Kirk. All he could see of her was a sleek cap of silky black hair.

'Hi, Cap'n Jim.' Sally was at his side, following the direction of his gaze with a not altogether amused smile. 'Quite a spectacle, isn't it? She's won three times already.'

'Has she indeed? Introduce me to this remarkable child, then.'

'Just a second,' Sally said, eyes of the chessboard. A moment later she observed dispassionately, 'Four times. As Spock would say, unprecedented. C'mon then.'

She took his arm and led him across the room. Spock rose as they approached and his companion did too, turning to face Kirk for the first time.

'Captain Kirk,' Sally said formally, 'this is Fei Darian.'

'How do you do, Captain,' said Fei with composure, holding out her hand.

Kirk took the hand, grasping it more tightly than he meant to, and stared.

Sally Kilsyth had been described, with some justice, as one of the most beautiful women in the galaxies. Kirk had never expected to meet her equal and yet this child, half grown to womanhood, was all of that, and more.

It had to be the eyes. They gazed into Kirk's with a complete lack of self consciousness and the serene confidence that only comes with great beauty. Glorious eyes they were, sapphire blue deepening to cobalt near the irises, surrounded by thick and curling black lashes. The black hair – true, deep-night black shaded with metallic blue – fitted the curves of the skull like a second skin, emphasising the pure oval of the face and the full, alluring mouth. Only a woman completely secure in her own beauty could have worn that severe hairstyle and carried it off, could have worn the plain navy overalls with indifference knowing she was still lovely. The figure was only just formed, but she exuded a woman's sexuality all the same.

Kirk wondered if she had Vulcan blood in her somewhere. That would account for the blue-black sheen on her hair, and the delicate lift of the eyebrows.

'Ah… hello,' he said eventually. He came to the speedy conclusion that this was a less than brilliant opening remark, and went on, 'I hear you've been beating my First Officer hands down at chess. No-one but myself has ever had that distinction before. What do you say to playing a game with me sometime?'

'That would be delightful,' Fei replied in a pleasingly husky voice, choosing – through innocence or flirtatiousness, Kirk was not sure – to disregard the invitation in his tone. 'Mr Spock is an excellent opponent and someone who has mastered him would be an exciting challenge.'

'However,' Sally said dryly, 'be warned that chess is Miss Darian's hobby and she has memorised over two thousand grand master games.'

Miss Darian? Kirk thought incredulously. _Miss_ Darian? He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Sally, who was friendly to a fault, who stood on terms of informality with everyone she met from Commodore to statesman, was seeking refuge in polite conventionalities. He had never heard her address anyone by anything other than a Christian name, or nickname. Come to think of it, he had never seen her look so completely un-amused, either.

'Miss Darian is sixteen, sir,' Spock informed him, with something suspiciously like awe in his tone. 'Yet she already holds degrees in computer electronics, engineering science and ballistic mathematics.'

'Don't forget English Literature and Vulcan Language,' Sally added blandly.

Kirk stole a look at her. The lovely face was entirely blank and the link was silent but Kirk knew without a doubt she was absolutely furious.

Now, why?

'If you already know all that,' Kirk said to Fei, shelving the problem for the moment,' why are you going to Gamma Helion? I would have thought five degrees would be enough for anyone.'

'Knowledge is the most important pursuit in the universe, Captain. Knowledge – and the ability to use it properly. There is so much to learn. If I spent the rest of my life studying, I would still be unsatisfied.'

Spock was nodding in profound agreement. Amused, Kirk said,

'So you intend to devote your whole life to learning?'

'Of one kind or another,' Fei agreed. 'All experience is part of the learning process, don't you agree?'

'Undoubtedly,' Kirk said, wondering whether she was, in fact, too young for him to consider becoming part of her learning process himself.

-Cradle snatcher- said the link, with unmistakeable disapproval.

Kirk was interrupted before he could point out that Sally had not been a great deal older than Fei when she had first come aboard, and that her sexual education had been at the 'advanced' stage even then.

The fresh-faced woman Kirk had rightly assumed to be one of the supervisors rose to her feet and clapped her hands twice. The subdued murmur of young voices was instantly hushed and all heads, including Fei's, turned obediently in her direction.

'Study hour, children,' the woman said brightly. 'To your cabins, please.'

Fei nodded politely to Kirk and Spock and moved to pass Sally on her way to join her fellows filing quietly out of the room.

The eyes of the girl and the woman met.

Kirk could have sworn he saw the glitter of steel and heard the clash of swords meeting in salute and challenge.

Then Fei was past Sally, being shepherded out of the door by the other two monitors as the woman who had spoken came over to Kirk. Her expression and voice had that determined brightness which teachers of children almost invariably seem to adopt when dealing with their charges and their acquaintance.

'Captain Kirk?' she said enquiringly, holding out her hand. When he took it, she pumped it so vigorously that he winced, and went on, 'Good of you to take us on board.' Before Kirk could remark that he had been given little choice in the matter, she continued, 'We'll try not to get in the way. The children were a little excited at first, but I'll make them stick to established routines as much as possible. Very important to have a routine, you know. Re-assures the children. Makes it easier for us to keep an eye on the little devils, too.' She laughed heartily at this and Kirk, feeling he was obliged to, gave a half-hearted chuckle.

Sally, a noticeably sardonic gleam in her eye, leaned back against the chess table with her arms folded and asked,

'Are they?'

'Are they what, dear?' Gina said.

'Little devils,' said Sally through clenched teeth, in order to make it quite plain she did not appreciate Gina's form of address.

'Oh, goodness me, no,' Gina replied, laughing again. 'That was a joke. Remarkably well behaved, on the whole.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' Sally said. The sardonic look did not abate.

Kirk, fearing that Sally was about to produce a burst of incivility that would pierce even Gina's cheerful armour, made haste to assure the supervisor that she and her charges were welcome aboard his ship. Throughout this polite, and totally insincere, speech, Sally looked blatantly bored. As soon as Gina departed, Kirk wheeled on her.

'I thought you said you liked children,' he said accusingly.

'So I do,' Sally retorted. 'But that's not a child. That's a very stupid woman.'

'Hardly that, Miss Kilsyth,' Spock objected mildly. 'Miss Steven has done excellent work in the field of child psychology.'

'Spare me a catalogue of her virtues. She'd drive me up the wall in five seconds flat.'

'Then we must consider it fortunate you are not one of her pupils,' Spock said.

'And you can just shut up,' Sally snapped.

Kirk jerked his head imperceptibly at the door. Spock, after a fractional hesitation, obeyed the implicit command, and left.

'What's up with you?' Kirk demanded of Sally when they were alone.

'Not a damn thing,' Sally replied.

Kirk looked at her. To the best of his knowledge, she had never had a competitor before, had always been regarded as a woman of unchallenged loveliness. He knew she was not vain, yet would it be surprising if she regarded the passing of her unquestioned supremacy with dismay?

'Fei is very lovely,' he said, probing.

'True,' Sally agreed calmly, adding with a flash of her usual manner, 'Too young for you, though, Kirk. And don't start comparing her with me. The cases are not the same.'

'I don't dispute it,' Kirk replied dryly, and it was true. There was a quality of child-like innocence in Fei that he could not imagine Sally had ever possessed, and that she had certainly lost by the time Kirk had first met her.

Envy of that innocence, then?

'I seem to recall I once told you I don't regret any of my life,' Sally said, answering the as yet unspoken thought. 'Stop cross-examining me. Why can't I have a bad mood now and again like everyone else?'

'Because it's not like you,' Kirk said frankly.

'Well, it's not like Spock to drool over a pretty teenager no matter how many sodding degrees she has,' Sally replied caustically, 'but I don't see anyone rushing around asking _him _his motives.'

Illumination came to Kirk then, leaving him open-mouthed and amazed at his own blind stupidity.

It was not jealousy of Fei's accomplishments or beauty that had driven Sally into this unfamiliar mood of sharp fury. It was resentment at Spock's admiration – admiration that Sally had come to expect and accept as hers alone. Now she had been shocked out of her serene pre-emption of Spock's friendship into a realisation of…what?

He was barely aware that this thought had formed concretely before Sally shouted at him with violent emphasis,

'Oh, don't be so _bloody_ stupid, Jim!'

They stared at each other for a long moment, aghast at the naked savagery of emotion that suddenly burned in the air between them. The Sally, with an inarticulate cry of rage, flung herself past him and out of the room

The door swept shut behind her. Left to himself, Kirk began to rock gently back and forth on his heels. Finally, he murmured,

'Well, well, well. And about time too.'

Sometime later he made his way to the bridge, whistling through his teeth.

McCoy strolled on to the bridge that afternoon, surprising Kirk somewhat; since Star Fleet regulations stated that any passenger carried by the 'Enterprise' should undergo a physical check as soon as possible after arrival, he had assumed McCoy would be busy for quite some time.

'Taking a break, Bones?'

'Hell, no, I'm finished,' McCoy replied. 'I tell you, Jim, it's a damn good thing we're not all as healthy as those kids. Otherwise I'd have to hang up my shingle.'

'You got through thirty-seven physicals today?'

McCoy had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself.

'Yeah, well, Chapel was there and…ah… Sally was around.'

'So you twinned on it?' Kirk entirely disapproved of this process, for it meant that Sally submerged her own mind into that of her donor's using his skills and memory without any effort on her part. Sally herself did not use this method often and Kirk had made it quite plain he did not wish her to be encouraged.

'She didn't have anything else to do,' McCoy said a shade defiantly, and rapidly changed the subject. 'She's fun with those kids, Jim. Doesn't talk down to 'em and threatens violent physical action if they don't do what she tells them – and they love it.'

Kirk finally pinpointed what had been nagging uneasily at the back of his mind all day.

'Don't you think they're all a little too angelic?'

McCoy leaned an arm on the back of Kirk's command chair, his face assuming a thoughtful expression as he pondered this.

'I don't know, Jim. I've never met an Alpha before. Wouldn't it stand to reason they won't be quite like other children? Most of 'em have spent their time in a very rarefied educational atmosphere where study is everything and play isn't encouraged. They've never really had a childhood.'

'I don't like it,' Kirk said decidedly. 'It isn't natural.'

'You should hear Spock on the subject,' McCoy retorted dryly. 'If you can possibly imagine Spock raving enthusiastically, that's what he was doing. When last seen he was discussing the rational of hyper-mathematics with Fei Darian, and I swear there was a gleam in his eyes, too.'

And what,' Kirk asked, with foreboding, 'was Sally doing?'

'Sulking,' was the succinct response.

Two days into their trip to Gamma Helion and the nagging unease in Kirk's bones was still there and growing steadily worse.

He had learned to trust his intuition implicitly, riding hunches that had looked like outright insanity, and it had never played him false. Even Spock, that master of facts and logic, had been known to acknowledge that Kirk's flair was almost uncanny and would have followed him unhesitatingly into hell if that was where Kirk's sixth sense led him.

Except that, at the moment, it did not seem to be leading him anywhere but round and round in circles. There was something not right about his ship. That was it boiled down to.

He could not, in all fairness, attribute it to the children. Their behaviour was exceptional. When not studying, they confined themselves to their recreation room and other open areas. They made no attempt to gain admittance to areas of the ship declared off limits to them.

And still Kirk could not quite like them.

The only time he felt anything approaching warmth towards them was when he saw them in Sally's company. With her, they were more like normal children; laughing at silly jokes, strutting around with exaggerated importance to gain her attention, making faces and telling stories. When Sally, losing patience with the naughtiness that only occurred in her company – which was, in its way, a compliment – threatened them with appalling punishment if they did not desist at once, they would shriek with glee and urge her on to further imaginative flights.

Her relationship with Gina Steven was far less happy. Fortunately, Kirk had so far managed to be on hand to prevent Sally from being either blatantly rude to her or (an alternative Sally would have greatly preferred) 'smacking her one.'

Could anyone be quite as insensitive as Gina seemed to be, Kirk wondered. She met all of Sally's offensives with her eternal cheerful smile, refused to be drawn into the argument Sally was so clearly longing for, did not even seem to notice Sally's dislike of her. It was possible that Gina, used to dealing with the precarious emotions of adolescents, had evolved this aura of bland insensibility to protect herself. Finding himself alone with Sally one afternoon halfway through the trip, Kirk voiced this opinion to her.

'Utter crap,' was her robust response. 'The woman's an idiot.'

'Yes, but she _isn't_, Sally,' Kirk said, tapping his finger on the tabletop to emphasis his point. 'She's a highly trained educator and a superb child psychologist into the bargain.'

'Oh, really? Then why is it that none – and I mean none, not even Fei, who is her golden child – of those kids like her?'

'Come on,' Kirk said, startled. 'I think you're letting your imagination run away with you.'

'Don't you tell me what I'm doing,' Sally retorted. 'Can we please remember that I am the one spending all my time with them all at the moment? They show her none of the affection they do to Joe and Hanna, or to me. Jim, they can't stand her. I should know, after all.'

'Do I get the impression you've been keeping something from me?'

'Any impression you may get is no responsibility of mine,' Sally said, with an acidity that was quite untypical of her.

'Sally,' Kirk snapped, on the verge of losing his temper, 'I have to say I don't particularly care if your pretty nose is merely out of joint or broken in forty-six different places. But I will tell you this – if you know something you're not telling me, I'll _really_ give you something to sulk about.'

Sally did not, as he half expected, flare into anger at this quite unjustified remark. She merely at there staring at him, a rueful smile playing about her mouth. Eventually she said,

'Do you really think I'd do that to you, Jim?'

'No. Sorry,' Kirk said. 'I guess yours aren't the only nerves on edge at the moment.'

'Oh, mine aren't on edge, they've tipped tight over to murder point, I think.' Sally said cheerfully. She did not specify who it was she was on the point of murdering, and Kirk thought it wiser not to ask. 'If I had anything definite I'd tell you, you know I would. But I'm…' Her hands described vague circles in the air, seeking to express in motion what was too intangible to be expressed in words. 'I'm fuzzy, Jim. I can't say it better than that. I'm not picking things up as clearly as I used to, it's like seeing things through a thin curtain… Spock says its temporary because of all the time I was out of it. He's got me practicing my disciplines again, and it is helping.'

'Why didn't you say something about this before?' Kirk wanted to know.

'Because I didn't know, Jim. Blocking is automatic to me now. I haven't had any reason to read anyone since I came back; it wasn't til I tried that I discovered I couldn't.'

'Damn,' Kirk said softly. He had been relying on her gift more than he knew, expecting her to be able to tell him whether this feeling he had of impending menace stemmed from the children or their companions, or, indeed, some outside force he was not yet aware of. Well, he had got by before Sally had exploded into his life, he would get by again.

'Is there anything you can tell me?'

'Just a feeling. It's faint, but positive. I don't trust Gina. There's something not right about her. She doesn't like children.'

It went against all sense, all reason; Gina Steven, with her cheerful pink face and brisk no-nonsense manner, was hardly threat enough to warrant the appearance of Kirk's particular gift. But Sally's dislike of Gina was unusual enough for Kirk to be inclined to take it seriously.

'Are you keeping an eye on her?' he asked.

'Sticking to her like glue, Cap'n Jim. And believe me, I hope I'm wrong. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to prove her stupidity is natural. What are you going to do now?'

'Me?' Kirk grinned at her. 'I'm going to do what I do best. I'm going to get to know the lady better…'

Some hours later, he was very seriously regretting this decision.

That evening was the first of the three performances of 'The Matchmaker', and Gina and her pupils had been offered front row seats. Kirk invited Gina to dinner in his cabin prior to the show.

She had shown no surprise at his invitation, but no great enthusiasm either. She arrived dressed in the same clothes she had worn earlier in the day, her only tribute to the occasion a slight smear of colour on her lips. Kirk had asked for the room to be decorated with flowers and soft candles (ignoring his yeoman's none too subtle 'here we go again' rolling of the eyes) and had ordered the most sensual dishes his exceedingly wide experience had suggested. Neither the romantic décor nor the delicious food had much impact on her; she pronounced the flowers 'charming', adding that her favourite flowers were white roses, and ate her way stolidly through a meal which would have had Sally bedded before the first course was over. She spoke very little about herself, offered no details of home and family and listened with an air of slight distraction to his tales.

Kirk escorted her to the show and they sat behind the children, all of whom were thrilled to be watching their Sally on stage. And she did give a bravura performance, funny and touching in turns, belting out the big numbers; the audience clapped and cheered and laughed along with her and even with McCoy, who was basically just being McCoy in a top hat.

Gina watched the show without much reaction, a slightly puzzled look on her face as if she didn't quite get what was going on. But… when she knew Kirk was looking at her, she displayed the same response as the rest of the audience. Almost, Kirk thought, as if she was copying them because she didn't know the correct response to make. After the show, he invited her to the observation deck.

There was something… nebulous, vague, unrest walked the corridors with Kirk that day. He had never met a woman so remarkable for lack of character. There was no warmth in her tone, no life, not even when she spoke of the children to whom, by all accounts, she had devoted her days. He questioned, provoked, prompted and challenged her and she met all of his approaches with the same bland smile. He had to admit that, as a method of avoiding a direct answer, it was foolproof. She could not have blocked him more successfully if she had been downright rude to him.

By the time they reached the observation deck, he had decided on another tactic. As the great steel shutters wheeled smoothly back and the stars were revealed in all their glory, he slipped an expert arm around her not unattractive waist.

'You know, that's one of my favourite sights,' he said softly. 'And I enjoy it even more when there's a pretty woman beside me.'

She had stiffened slightly at his touch and made no move to respond to this advance. Kirk decided to persevere anyway and pulled her gently round to face him, tilting her chin upwards with his other hand as he did so. She gave him absolutely no encouragement, either with her eyes or her body, but she did not attempt to pull away. As if, he thought, she had an unpleasant duty to perform and had made up her mind to see it through.

He bent his head, with the smile that had such a devastating effect on most women playing about his mouth.

'And you are very pretty, Gina,' he said, in husky seductive tones.

She stared at him, almost mesmerised. Her whole body was rigid.

The hell with it, Kirk thought. I'm going to find out what this is all about. And he kissed her.

Her reaction, although unprecedented in his experience, was unmistakable. After a moment when she made no movement at all, she thrust him away from her with all her strength. Her hand, in an uncontrolled movement, rubbed back and forward across her mouth as if she wanted to erase the imprint of his lips upon it.

Kirk took a step towards her, spreading out his hands.

'Come on, Gina. It's just a kiss, after all. What's a kiss between friends?'

She shook her head at him wordlessly, her hand still resting, forgotten, against her mouth. He took another step and she turned on her heels and ran from him.

Kirk stood alone in the centre of the deck, for once utterly oblivious to the grandeur around him. He was not a particularly vain man but he had kissed a great many women for a great many reasons – not all of them to do with passion - and he was a veteran in their responses. Gina's rejection had not been the virginal fear of the unknown, nor the dismissive reaction of a woman whose sexual preference lay elsewhere. Gina had been terrified – and disgusted. Almost as if he was an alien to her…

After a few moments silent reflection Kirk, wondering if he were about to make a total fool of himself, went over to the intercom and called McCoy.

'Bones, was there anything… odd about Gina Steven's medical?'

'Whaddya take me for, an intern?' McCoy responded, justifiably indignant. 'Of course there wasn't.'

'You said Sally helped you,' Kirk said, striving not to make the comment sound like an accusation.

'Yeah, that's right. Sally, Chapel and me. You gonna quote regs at me? You know she was using my mind to do it.'

Sally. Sally, who was 'fuzzy'.

'Who did Gina's medical, Bones? It was Sally, wasn't it?'

'Yes,' McCoy replied. His drawl vanished and his voice was suddenly alert. 'It was indeed. What's up, Jim?

'Nothing – I hope, I'm on my way down.'

'I'll have the tape waiting for you,' McCoy said.

Sally stepped out of the shower, dripping and cursing fluently. The door buzzer sounded again and she swore it open, clutching at her towel as she did so.

'What do _you_ want?' she asked, in distinctly cold tones.

Spock took two steps into the room, observed her lack of attire, and stopped short abruptly. Sally watched the colour deepen on his face with a certain mischievous satisfaction.

'I did not realise… Miss McKenna said that you were studying.'

And so I was, until a minute ago,' Sally replied, waving the door shut with one hand and calmly hitching up her towel – which did not quite seem to cover the essentials – with the other. 'As you would have found out, had you bothered to link-call.'

This was a very unfair remark, and they both knew it. Spock, reluctant to use the link at the best of times, had never employed it as a kind of secondary intercom as Kirk and Sally did, nor had Sally ever expected or requested him to.

'I will withdraw,' Spock said with dignity, 'until you are more suitably dressed.'

'Please don't bother,' Sally snapped, picking up her robe from the floor and thrusting her arms into it. As she belted it around her waist with quite unnecessary vigour, she added, 'I don't know why you're getting so hot under the collar, anyway. As outfits go, that towel probably covers more of me than most of the clothes I wear including, I might add, my Star Fleet uniform. Anyway, if you've managed to reach your age without setting eyes on a nearly naked female then your experience is woefully lacking.'

'My experience in these matters in not under discussion,' Spock said, very stiffly.

'Not by you, maybe,' Sally retorted.

'Sally, I have neither your talent, not your taste, for innuendo, and I will not continue a conversation with you upon these lines.'

Sally had the decency to look a little ashamed of herself. She flung herself into a chair and said crossly,

'Fine, you pompous Vulcan, have it your way. What did you want to see me about?'

He was silent, watching her, and she saw that she had puzzled him with her inexplicable antagonism. She herself was finding it hard to comprehend why she should be so angry with him.

'I'm sorry if I offended you, Spock. Shall we start this conversation over?'

'Offence is a human emotion.'

Of course it is,' Sally agreed warmly, smiling at him with great brilliance. 'I should also apologise for thinking that _you_ might be subject to such a human trait. Can't think what came over me.'

Spock eyed her suspiciously but decided that to continue on this topic would only lead to deep waters from which he might not necessarily escape with his Vulcan persona unscathed. That persona was never very safe with Sally anyway and he judged her mood to be precarious enough for her to let slide the pretence that she did not see through his carefully wrought barriers all too clearly.

He sat. Sally, wriggling like an eel, managed to remove the towel without revealing enough flesh to offend her Vulcan's sense of the proprieties and applied it to her hair, which was dripping over the furniture.

'So what's up?' she asked, somewhat muffled.

'The captain is worried,' Spock said, 'and I, too, have had some subliminal awareness all is not well. You are still unable to read anyone?' That question was personal in the extreme and he had hesitated before asking it; but Sally had always taken it for granted he could ask her anything and he had never known her to display embarrassment. As an incidental result of this, he had frequently found himself seeking enlightenment from her on topics it would not have occurred to him to question Kirk about, let alone McCoy.

'Unable?' Sally repeated thoughtfully. 'No, I don't know if I would say that, exactly.' She gave her hair one last brisk rub and then dropped the towel carelessly on the floor, pushing the heavy sweep of her hair away from her face with both hands. 'The link doesn't seem to be affected, nor is the snap…'

'The what?' Spock said, momentarily at a loss.

'Telekinetic ability,' Sally replied, enunciating each syllable precisely. 'I do wish you wouldn't be do damn literal, it really slows the conversation down… Where was I?'

'Telekinetic ability,' Spock said blandly.

Sally had the definite feeling she was being goaded, and frowned. Hostilities had been suspended, not terminated and it wouldn't take much to resurrect them.

'Every time I read someone, all I get is a confused mass of thoughts and emotions. I think you're right, my fine control slipped while I was with Kerad. You know as well as I do that you lose it if you don't practice every day. You've spent as much time with those kids as I have – well, with Fei Darian, anyway,' she added, letting her grievance slip without any conspicuous effort to restrain herself. 'What do you think?'

Miss Darian has said nothing about her relationship with Miss Steven.'

'Hmmm, you don't seem to have got a lot of information out of her,' Sally remarked. 'Considering you've spent the past few days huddling in corners with your heads together, looking like …' She caught Spock's incredulous look and stopped abruptly. The thought crossed her mind that, this time, she might have gone too far.

Spock, however, was treading very warily. By no means as adept as Kirk at judging emotions of any kind, let alone those of the female of the species, it had taken him some little time to work out that Sally was displaying all the classic symptoms of jealousy. This, according to all the human literature Spock had ever read, was a promising symptom. It was also, as he was now experiencing first hand, exceedingly tiresome. So he said mildly,

'I will admit I have not been as successful in obtaining facts as I had hoped. However, there must be some reason for your mistrust of Miss Steven.'

Sally's expression relaxed, but she said snappily,

'Just intuition, and I know you don't believe in that.'

'It is not a question of belief,' Spock said slowly. 'I find the terminology inaccurate and the powers humans claim for that attribute misplaced. Intuition is simply the sum of facts known, whether consciously or unconsciously. What facts do you know about Miss Steven?'

Sally absent-mindedly began to plait strands of her hair together.

'Aside from the fact that she's boring? I don't know any, Spock.'

'Think!' Spock commanded her. 'Did the years on my planet teach you nothing? Your mind is a tool. Use it.'

Sally's eyes met and held his, but she did not see him. Spock kept his gaze on her, and otherwise remained motionless. There was silence in the room for almost five minutes.

Then Sally bounced to her feet with an abruptness and exuberance that startled him.

'That's it!' she shouted, hitting the table with the palms of both hands. 'C'mon, Spock, we need to go and see McCoy.'

'May one ask why?' Spock enquired, but she was already out of the door, bounding down the corridor with her feet bare, hair tumbled and the robe slipping un-noticed from her shoulders. Spock followed her out at a more sedate pace and promptly encountered the amazed stare of a crewman who had witnessed her precipitate exodus. He could hardly blame the man for the speculation written all over his face, but he raised an eyebrow calmly, daring him to comment. Then he joined Sally, who was waiting impatiently by the elevator.

'Sorry,' she said as the doors enclosed them, stealing a glance at his face. 'I do get you into some situations, don't I?'

'It does seem to be one of your less helpful attributes,' he agreed.

'Well,' she said with a shrug, starting to giggle, 'considering our respective reputations, the general consensus will probably be that I made a determined assault on your virtue, which you repulsed.'

'I do not find that thought particularly edifying,' Spock told her glacially and maintained a frigid silence for the rest of the journey to sickbay.

Sally took three quick steps into McCoy's office and stopped short. Kirk rose from the desk. He was holding a tape in his hands.

'So,' he said. 'You've remembered.'

'It's very faint,' McCoy said to Sally, after they had all viewed the tape and its evidence. 'I might have missed it myself.'

'Nice try,' Sally replied, with a humourless smile, 'but you know you wouldn't have. Thanks anyway.' She had herself well under control but her distress was obvious to them all.

'It's all right, Sally,' Kirk said, although heaven knew it might well not be. Spock stood close behind her, far closer than he would normally have permitted himself to be. His presence was immensely reassuring and Sally had to restrain a ridiculous impulse to lean back against him and cry.

'So Gina Steven isn't human,' Kirk said thoughtfully. 'It might help if we knew what she _is_… Bones?'

'Dunno,' McCoy said briefly. 'Sorry, Jim, but I've never seen a reading like that before and I can spot standard alien patterns a mile off.'

'Why don't we just ask her?' Sally suggested.

Kirk, Spock and McCoy all stared at her. Such an obvious solution had not occurred to any of them.

'I know I don't like her, but so far she hasn't done anything that can be construed as aggressive. There might even be a perfectly logical explanation,' she added with a glance at Spock which clearly said, 'Beat you to it that time.'

'There might be, I suppose,' Kirk agreed. There was, so far, no reason to suppose Gina was a threat – nothing, that was, save Kirk's sixth sense, and even he was prepared to admit looking for trouble where it had not yet been proven to exist was second nature to him now.

'Spock, we'll go see the lady and…' The intercom whistled and Kirk broke off in mid-sentence to answer it. 'Kirk here.'

'Captain,' Uhura's voice said, ' we have just received a subspace transmission from a vessel calling itself the flagship of the Ujentan peoples.' Her voice was puzzled.

'Never heard of 'em,' Kirk retorted. 'What do they want?'

'Sir, they say they will rendezvous with us in twelve hours, and they request permission to dock with us and…' There was a pause.

'And what, Uhura?' Kirk said patiently.

'Sir, they say they are coming by arrangement with Star Fleet to collect Vice President Halloran and her companion. What answer do you wish me to send, sir?'

Kirk looked at Spock, who had both eyebrows on the rise.

'Transmit this, Uhura. No such arrangement was made by us.'

'I'm afraid it was, Captain Kirk, ' said Gina Steven from the doorway.

Kirk said, 'Hold that,' snapped off the intercom and turned to face Gina, who moved into the centre of the room, keeping her eyes on Kirk. Sally leaned back against McCoy's desk, pulling her robe firmly on to her shoulders and tightening her belt.

Kirk was vividly reminded of a soldier, preparing for battle.

'I think you owe me an explanation,' Kirk said to Gina. 'Who are you? What do you want?'

'Nothing from you, Captain. That is, nothing but transport and not even that for long. Our people will not venture into populated territory.'

'Your people?' Spock asked.

'The Ujentan race, Mr Spock. You will not have heard of us. Those of us who move among you do so as humans. We do not desire that you should know us better.'

Kirk decided he preferred this Gina Steven to her earlier self. Gone was the brisk and characterless manner, the bland smiles and the endless cheerfulness. This woman had a hard-edged intelligence in her eyes and a crisp voice that said she would be a worthy friend or foe. Kirk was not yet sure which she intended to be.

'Are you Gina Steven?' Sally asked. 'I mean, have you always been known by that name?'

'I have borrowed her identity for a while. The real Gina Steven is on Persis, quite safe and quite unaware. Captain Kirk, it would probably save time if you contacted your Admiral Doran.'

'Doran _knows _about this?'

'Knows? He arranged it,' Gina replied.

'Sorry about the deception, Jim,' Doran said. 'I reckoned without your flair, though. Should have known you'd pick up something was off.'

'What the devil is all the secrecy about?' Kirk demanded.

'Jim, our negotiations with the Ujentans are at a very delicate stage and being conducted at the highest levels. We'd be delighted to welcome them into the Federation, but they are less enthusiastic. So we have agreed on an compromise. One of their number will be spending time on Earth, and Fei Darian volunteered to go to Ujenta. Sort of exchange students, if you will. They will report back to their respective governments on a regular basis, and if all goes well, other exchanges will be arranged and Ujenta will join the Federation eventually. They have amazing technology, Jim. Way above what we have.'

'Fei Darian knows about this? And agreed?'

'Why, certainly. She's been training for it for the last year. Well, you've met her. Do you think she's the type to pass up the chance for this kind of knowledge? Ask heryourself.'

'I really want to go,' Fei told Kirk. ' Think of the opportunity, Captain – the chance to be the first to study an alien race, previously unknown to us, in their own surroundings. And I can teach them about us in return. I have no family, no-one who will miss me. Vice President Halloran and Admiral Doran made me a business proposition, and I accepted it.'

'What happens if you don't like it? If you want to come back?' Kirk asked.

'She will be returned,' the woman now known as the Vice President said. 'All that she will lose are some of her memories. But she will not want to return.'

-Sally?-

-As far as I can tell, she's not lying, Jim. There's no plan to hurt Fei, or restrain her. But there is something else, something she's hiding, and I can't get to it-

-Important?-

-Don't know. Nothing to do with Fei, I think-

'If you have assured yourself of my good intentions, may I now contact my ship and tell them they may dock?'

'Very well,' Kirk said, after a moment's hesitation. 'Go ahead.'

A small group assembled by the air lock the next day to bid farewell to Fei. Kirk, still plagued by a nagging sense of unease and Spock, who had come to say goodbye to a young woman who had very much impressed him. Sally was there too, with the less noble motive of inquisitiveness, and McCoy had accompanied her.

The Ujentan ship, as seen on the viewing screen beside the airlock, was certainly something to behold. Three times the size of the 'Enterprise' she spoke of technology they could not hope to match and could have blasted them out of the skies with ease if such had been her desire. Fortunately she seemed to have no such inclination. Uhura reported no signs of shield or weapons activity.

Fei was almost dancing in anticipation. The Vice President was more composed and it did not seem to be in her nature to make a display of her feelings, but a subdued gleam in her eyes suggested she shared Fei's eagerness. Sally, for reasons of her own, was also keen to see them gone. Possibly because she was determined not to be out-done by Fei, she had arrayed herself in a sea-green dress that was startlingly beautiful and more than a little indecent.

'The Ujentan ship is docking now, Captain,' Uhura's voice informed them from the intercom.

'Thank you, Uhura,' Kirk said. They could hear the hollow clanking of the walkway as it connected with the outer hull, and then the hiss of compressed air as the vacuum in the air lock filled.

'Right, bye then,' Sally said brightly.

'Don't worry,' Fei said gently, to Kirk.

'I won't,' Sally muttered in an undertone to McCoy, then caught Spock's eye and blushed for the first time in her life.

The airlock door opened and Fei stepped inside.

'And you, Spock,' said the Vice President.

There was an instant's stunned silence during which Kirk had time to wonder where she had hidden the weapon she was now pointing at them.

'Not a chance,' Kirk said, moving forward, vaguely aware that Sally was moving too.

Halloran let Kirk get close enough to touch her. Then she pulled the trigger.

To be continued…

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER NINE – FEI (continued)

'Jim! Wake up, Jim!'

Kirk grabbed the hand that was slapping his face and almost choked his chief medical officer to death.

'Bones!'

'Not yet, and I'd like to keep it that way, thanks,' McCoy wheezed, massaging his throat.

Kirk sat up, the pins and needles sensation in his legs gradually fading as he moved.

'Where's Spock?'

'Not here,' McCoy responded, briskly injecting Kirk with a stimulant and then performing that same office on himself. 'I tried that,' he added, seeing Kirk glance automatically at the intercom. 'He's not on board, Jim.'

Kirk's legs were at last his own. He jumped to his feet, too concerned with Spock's absence to notice that Sally, too, was missing.

'Uhura!' he barked into the intercom. 'Open a channel to the Ujentan ship and inform them if they do not instantly return my First Officer to this ship, they may regard themselves as having executed an act of aggression against the Federation.'

'Sorry, sir,' Uhura's voice said, after a pause. 'They're jamming all frequencies. I can't even get a message out to the nearest Starbase.'

'I'm coming up,' Kirk told her, but before he could move Scott's voice broke in urgently over the connection to the bridge.

'Captain! Someone's just used the transporter to beam aboard the other ship!'

Now, at last, Kirk realised who was not there, who of all people would not stand by and wait for channels of diplomacy to run their course while Spock was in danger. With the instant's warning granted to her by her telepathic sense, she must have been running for the transporter room as Gina pulled the trigger on Kirk (and presumably on Spock, too, since the Vulcan would never have allowed himself to be taken had he been conscious), tuning in to the link and flying to his side as easily as a homing pigeon returns to its nest. At least…

'Did she make it?' he demanded harshly of Scott.

'Aye, I think so… though she hasna given the co-ordinates any fine tuning. It looks as though she left in a hurry… I assume it was Sally, sir?'

'Who else would do anything so bloody stupid? Are the co-ordinates still set?'

'Aye, sir, that they are.'

'Hold them,' Kirk said briefly and turned from the intercom to meet McCoy's unbelieving stare.

'You're not going after them,' McCoy said flatly. He got no answer. Kirk, his mouth set in a thin line, walked past him with his intention clearly written all over his face.

'Are you crazy?' McCoy followed him down the corridor, trotting to keep up. 'Jim, that woman gets into more scrapes than a potato and so far she's got out of them just fine. She's got Spock. He's got her. I can't think of anything or anyone that could stand up against that combination when it gets going. They don't need you charging after them on your personal white horse and Star Fleet certainly won't thank you for it. You need to stay here and do your job – which is to get them back without causing a war.'

'They are both my friends,' Kirk said, without slowing down.

'And they are mine, too,' McCoy pointed out, very quietly.

Kirk stopped short abruptly and McCoy collided with him. For a long moment, they stared at each other in silence.

McCoy knew exactly what was going through Kirk's mind at that instant. It was, of course, his business to understand his captain's mental health and he had developed an instinct for divining Kirk's emotions that was almost uncanny, but he had never before known with such clarity exactly what Kirk was thinking.

It had always been Kirk and Spock in the past. That friendship had already passed into legend within Star Fleet, had been tested to the limit in so many situations. They had each risked career, sanity, life for each other.

And now there was Sally.

Bound to them both from the first, re-bound by their own choice, she had taken her place at their side as if she had always belonged there. Kirk had accepted her there and even Spock had allowed it in the end, trusting her with his life – and with Kirk's.

There was Sally, extravagantly willing to rush in where only Kirk and Spock had dared to tread in the past. Sally, who would go to Spock's aid before even Kirk, and was as capable of fighting for him if she had to.

And now, Kirk was facing the fact there would be times when Sally could go to Spock's aid when he could not – and times when Spock might even prefer it that way.

'I can't be that egotistical,' Kirk whispered. 'Am I?'

As McCoy slowly shook his head, Uhura announced from the intercom,

'Captain, the Ujentan ship has just gone to warp speed. Mr Sulu is requesting course instructions.'

Kirk held McCoy's gaze for a moment longer. Then he went over to the intercom, slammed his hand against the 'transmit' button, and said,

'Tell him to get after them. I'm on my way. Kirk out.'

'That's more like it,' McCoy muttered, and followed his captain into the elevator.

Sally materialised six feet above the ground and fell with a sickening thump to the floor.

'Bugger, ouch, bugger, bugger,' she muttered, a quick look round assuring her that no-one had seen or heard her arrival. The corridor was empty.

There had been time for no sort of plan; Sally was not even sure she had thought at all. The interval between Gina's pulling the gun on Kirk and Sally finding herself in the transporter room, feverishly setting the controls with hands that did not seem to belong to her, was a total blank in her mind. Even as she stepped under the beams she did not know if the co-ordinates had come from her link with Spock or her own imagination, or if she would find herself reconstituted in deep space or the cold metal of a starship wall. But the compulsion to go to Spock's aid overrode any other consideration and the need to be at his side, whether he wanted her there or not, was too great to be controlled.

-Spock? Where are you?-

-Sally?-

It had always been difficult for Spock to hide behind his barriers in the link. Thought to thought, mind to mind – there, if anywhere, was there truth between them. Subtleties and resonances which did not exist in speech suddenly sprang into clear life, every telepathic form had an echo behind it.

In that one word which came in answer to her question, Sally sensed many things. His use of the form for her first name, an informality he rarely permitted himself even now, was sufficient indication of his surprise at her presence. But there was relief there too, and perhaps, even pleasure.

-I'm on my way, Spock-

Actually, this was a gross exaggeration. Aside from the fact she was in some kind of corridor, Sally had no idea where she was in relation to Spock – and this was a big ship.

-Sally, I appreciate your concern but I appear to be in no immediate danger. I beg of you to restrain your instincts for the dramatic-

-Do not worry, my Vulcan friend, I have no desire to call attention to my presence just yet. Sit tight-

-Since I appear to be locked in- the link said, with unmistakeable dryness –I have little choice but to await your arrival-

Sally slipped from shadow to shadow, limping a little; she had fallen heavily on her ankle, and it was beginning to hurt. She wondered if Spock were right, if what she had done had been unnecessarily dramatic. There had been no thought of heroics or drama when she came after him. It had been simple, blind need that could not be gainsaid nor surrender to any practical consideration. She could have brought a phaser or communicator with her. She could have waited, and submitted to Kirk's decision. Both these arguments, she knew, would be uttered by Kirk – and with good reason – when she and Spock returned to the safety of the 'Enterprise'.

She smiled. Kirk himself would have acted just as she had done had the instant's warning granted to her had reached him in time. Dear Jim, still firmly convinced that Sally, by virtue of her sex, should follow where he led.

She wriggled into an air vent and sensed she was coming to a more populated area of the ship. Considering its size, there seemed to be remarkably few crew on board – something that Sally could not help wondering about. Knowing Spock's insatiable curiosity, it might be that a little exploration would be the order of the day before they made good their escape…

-Spock? Close?-

-Very close-

A few minutes later Sally was sliding out of the air vent into the room where Spock was being held prisoner. It could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be described as a cell. It was even luxurious. The carpet was soft and thick, the couch and chairs comfortably upholstered. There was a shelf full of books and a pot of coffee sitting on a table, which Sally promptly helped herself to.

'No biscuits, dammit.'

'Your ankle is swollen,' Spock observed.

'What? Oh, so it is.'

A few seconds later, Spock was efficiently applying a cold towel to her leg. Sally glanced round and saw that an open door led to a bedroom, equally comfortable.

'Hmmm, someone wants you to feel at home.'

'Indeed, that has been my impression also.'

'Have you seen anyone?'

'No-one. After I was stunned, I awoke here.'

She finished her coffee, grateful for the warmth and energy it sent through her. She flashed an irrepressible smile at Spock.

'So. Any ideas on how we get out of this?'

'You,' Spock pointed out, 'came to rescue _me._ Did you think to bring a weapon or communicator?'

'Um, well, no. But I can link to Jim and give him the co-ordinates to beam us back.'

'If they are in range,' Spock said. 'Furthermore, I cannot speak for the 'Enterprise', but this ship is at warp speed.'

'Ah.' Sally looked momentarily disconcerted. Then she grinned and shook her charm bracelet at him.

'Then I guess it's time we rang the bell, don't you?'

There was a silence.

'You haven't told him, have you,' Sally said. 'You said it was for his peace of mind, and you didn't tell him about it. He doesn't know the frequency.'

'I could not foresee you would need to be found again quite so soon,' Spock said, a little defensively.

'There's going to be a conversation, Spock.'

'Once we return to the ship,' Spock replied, meeting her eyes. 'Possibly. But not here, and not now.'

'Practical as always. In that case, shall we go?'

'After you,' Spock said politely, as she gestured the door open.

They walked down the corridor together cautiously. There was no need to discuss a plan of escape. Each knew that the other had come to the conclusion that the only chance was to see if the ship had escape shuttles – and, logically, a craft this size should possess many – steal one, and pilot it back to the 'Enterprise'.

Spock grasped her arm abruptly, halting her in mid-stride. A second later, her mind registered what his acute hearing had already heard. Someone was coming down the corridor towards them and there was no corner where they could hide.

Sally laid a hand on the closest door.

-Empty. Come on-

Spock followed her inside, saying as the door closed,

'I calculate the odds on our reaching the hanger deck unobserved to be 1532.73 to 1.'

'What I like about you is your eternal optimism.' Sally replied, casting an eye hastily about the room. 'Spock, I do believe that's fruit over there. Do you think it would disagree with me if I ate it?'

'My observation of your eating habits has led me to suspect you could ingest irradiated carbon without ill effects,' Spock said austerely.

'Fair enough.' And Sally took an enormous bite out of something that looked almost, but not quite, like a peach.

The door swept open to admit Fei Darian and Sally promptly swallowed her mouthful whole.

'Are you all right?' Fei asked after Spock had hit Sally, with rather more force than was absolutely necessary, on the back and the offending piece of fruit had been expelled.

'That remains to be seen,' Sally said, with a withering glance at Spock. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'This is my cabin,' Fei said. She did not appear to be at all perturbed by Sally's unexpected presence, or Spock's obvious freedom.

'Good, you can answer some questions. Have a seat.' A chair suddenly slid across the room, banged into Fei's knees and deposited her on the seat, heavily.

'Miss Kilsyth, I do not believe Miss Darian had fore-knowledge of the Vice President's intentions.'

'I didn't,' Fei said earnestly, looking at Sally. 'I was as surprised as you were.'

'Fei,' said Sally, 'you had better tell me the truth. You must know that I will just take it from you if you don't.'

'I am telling you the truth,' Fei snapped back, 'and you can check if you want to. I don't have anything to hide.'

-Sally, I believe she is speaking the truth. There is no need for you to behave like a member of the Gestapo-

Sally made a noise rather like an infuriated kitten, and flounced to a chair opposite Fei.

'Then do you at least know _why?_'

'I think so.' Fei hesitated, looking at Spock. 'I believe she wanted a Vulcan to study.'

'Vulcans are the last people in the universe to stand in the way of knowledge,' Sally observed, 'so why didn't she just go through the proper channels with Doran and arrange an exchange, like she did with you?'

'Because it's Vulcan emotions she wants to study.'

'Vulcans do not have emotions,' Spock said.

'I do not wish to debate you, Mr Spock,' Fei said, very respectfully, 'but that's the myth which has built up since first contact, and why she did not go direct to the Vulcans. The facts are that Vulcans control their emotions. They make decisions based on facts and logic, deliberately choosing to disregard feelings. Children are trained from birth to manage and master their passions. Some are more successful than others. Mr Spock, even you must know there are Vulcans who do _not _live guided by logic.'

'If he does, he's kept bloody quiet about it,' Sally interposed.

'_T_he Ujentans, on the other hand, really do have no emotions. They don't control them, they just don't have them. No love, or hate, or envy, or passion. I think they wanted a human and a half-Vulcan to make comparisons.'

'_That _explains a hell of a lot, at least to me,' Sally said to Spock. 'I couldn't pick anything up from her, and I thought it was me – but there just wasn't anything there to get.'

'I knew you'd come after him,' Fei said to Sally. 'I tried to tell the Vice President that, but she didn't believe me. She's never loved anyone, so she doesn't understand.'

She stood up before Sally could respond to that last statement and went over to the computer on the desk.

'Mr Spock, the hangar deck is 23 levels below this one, and the most direct route is this way. The ship is almost fully automated, you are not likely to meet anyone and I'm sure you can cope with anyone if you do…'

'Am I invisible here? Excuse me, I came to rescue him and have fabulous telekinetic powers, why are we assuming the male person will be doing the coping?'

Spock's mouth twitched perceptibly but he asked, gravely enough,

'Does the ship possess shuttlecraft?'

'Yes, but not very many, and they aren't fuelled for long trips. I'll contact the 'Enterprise' and let them know your course back…'

'You are not coming with us?' Spock asked.

'I made a choice, and I'm going to stick to it. They aren't bad people, Mr Spock, they just don't quite 'get' emotion. I won't come to any harm. The Vice President wouldn't let you go herself, but she won't do anything to me – no anger, no need for punishment, you see.'

'You are sure?'

'Didn't you just hear her say so? Let's go.' Sally stood up and went over to the door, tapping her foot impatiently. Spock hesitated.

'Go,' Fei said. 'And stay safe – both of you.'

'Miss Darian is an exceedingly polite young lady,' Spock commented as they made their way to the hangar deck doors.

'You mean, unlike a certain redhead you know? I can think of another word for it,' Sally responded disagreeably. 'In fact, if she'd had her head any further up your…'

To Spock's inexpressible relief, she was interrupted before she could finish that sentence. The door immediately to their left opened and two men came out. There was hardly any hesitation before they reached for their side arms, but it was enough for Sally; she snapped her fingers and they both lifted off the ground, spinning wildly.

'That ought to keep 'em occupied til we're away. Which one is the hangar deck?'

'At the end of the corridor.' Spock pointed. 'According to the schematics Miss Darian has, the external doors can be operated from within the shuttle. If you can…'

He broke off suddenly and staggered, bumping into her. Sally, surprised, put out a hand to support him and almost screamed; where she touched him, her hand was wet with blood. A knife was protruding from his side, only inches away from where she knew his heart was.

'What the bloody hell…' She turned, and realised that one of the men, despite the dizzying spin she has sent him into, had managed to draw and throw the knife at them. Snapping her fingers, she sent them crashing heavily into each other, and then dropped them to the floor with a thump.

'We need to go. Now.' Spock was leaning against the wall, very pale.

'You need a doctor. I'm going to get Fei.'

'If you do, I doubt we will get off this ship. And I am sure Dr. McCoy will be delighted to exercise his skills as soon as we return.'

'Can you move?'

'I can. Open the hangar doors.'

Sally ran down the corridor, heedless of the pain in her ankle, snapping the doors open and quite prepared to kill anyone or anything that stood in the way of her getting Spock safely home. The hangar deck was empty of people, but three crafts stood ready. Sally opened the biggest, reasoning it should have the greatest supply of fuel and air. Then she ran back to Spock, slipping a hand under his arm to help him into the shuttle.

'I do not need any assistance…'

'Linked, remember? You're in agony. Tell me how to fly this.'

Spock sat down heavily in one of the seats as Sally closed the shuttle doors and began to flick switches. The forward screen came on suddenly, startling her, and the external doors started to slide open. He leaned forward with a grimace and said,

'I suspect you will find the control just under your right hand is the ignition.'

Sally pressed the button and the little ship shot forward into space.

Kirk was pacing the bridge.

'All transmissions still being jammed, sir,' Uhura said into the silence, giving him a routine report he could well have done without.

Kirk cursed under his breath. It had been that way for two hours now, unable to get a message out, nothing coming in. The Ujentan ship had long since vanished from the edge of the scanner, but Sulu was still following doggedly, riding hunches rather than solid information, and since Kirk had nothing to offer but hunches anyway, he had let Sulu get on with it.

Everyone was very carefully not looking at the empty science console chair.

Kirk's pacing brought him to the elevator, where he collided with McCoy, who was stepping out of it.

'Anything?' McCoy asked, though he knew it was pointless; he would have been informed if contact had been made. Kirk shook his head.

'Not a damn thing. If I didn't know better, I'd say there was nothing out there at all.'

The elevator opened again and Kirk turned, surprised, as he had not requested anyone else's attendance. Siran McKenna emerged.

Kirk didn't know Sally's room-mate all that well. She worked in the archaeology section and had joined the 'Enterprise' from a frontier ship, which possibly explained her hair – although perfectly regulation in style, it was coloured in wild streaks of red, gold, brown and copper. He believed she and Sally were close friends but Siran seemed a little in awe of him, and always managed to quietly disappear when he and Sally were together.

'Miss McKenna?'

'I thought you might need this, sir.' She handed him a slip of paper. Kirk glanced down at it.

'What's this?'

'It's Sally's frequency, sir.'

'Frequency?' McCoy was looking as puzzled as Kirk. 'What frequency?'

'Of her transponder.'

'She has a transponder?' Kirk asked. 'Bones, did you…?'

'Nothing to do with me, Jim.'

'Could you elaborate, Miss McKenna?'

'Certainly, Captain. Mr Spock gave her a transponder. It's in her charm bracelet.'

She waited for a moment or two in case there were any further questions, then nodded a polite goodbye and disappeared back into the elevator. Kirk and McCoy were left staring at each other.

'Well, I'll be damned,' McCoy said eventually. 'That sneaky Vulcan. I might have known he'd have something extra up his sleeve. Are you just gonna stand there, Jim?'

'Uhura!' Kirk said, galvanised. 'See if you can get a fix on this…'

'Okay,' said Sally, leaning back in her chair. 'The course is set, and we're on auto. Get that shirt off, Spock.'

'Certainly not,' Spock said promptly, with great firmness.

'Oh, for God's sake, you have Victorian attitudes, did you know that?' Sally snapped, exasperated. She went aft and could be heard throwing things about. Over the noise, she shouted, 'I don't know where you get your hang-ups from, but without wishing to be crude, or, worse yet, embarrassing, you of all people must know that I have seen a number of male bodies in my time.' She appeared in the doorway with a small chest in her hands. 'Can you possibly believe that the sight of your naked torso will send me so mad with lust that I'll be unable to control myself – which is unlikely, most of my men could give you a run for your money – or are you built so differently from any other male…'

Spock took his shirt off. It seemed preferable to a temper tantrum.

'There, that wasn't so difficult, was it? I don't know what the medicines are, but I can recognise a pressure bandage when I see one – and I don't faint at the sight of blood, not even green blood.' Despite her little tirade, Spock of all people could not fail to be unaware of the -hmmm, yum- which seemed to be reverberating round the room. She opened a bottle and sniffed. 'Antiseptic. This will sting.' She mopped blood gently from his skin; the wound was neat, but deep, and had bled freely. 'Has it hit anything vital?'

'I believe not. You have all the makings of an excellent nurse.'

'I have all the makings of an excellent everything,' Sally said bitterly. She was concentrating more intensely than necessary on putting the pressure bandage in place and he could not see her face. 'Superhero, combat expert, rescuer in chief – choose your pick and I'll show you how to screw it up so fast it'll make your head spin.'

'Humility does not become you,' Spock replied dryly. 'What would you have me say? You did what you came to do, and both of us are still alive and reasonably intact.'

Sally said swiftly and impetuously,

'But I didn't do it myself. If Fei hadn't helped, we might not have got out.'

'Does the fact that we were given aid invalidate your actions?'

'No, but it sure as hell wounds my vanity. I always thought I could do anything.'

'If your vanity is all that is wounded, you are fortunate. It may even be good for you.'

She looked up at him and smiled. His expression was gentle, one eyebrow on the rise.

And that was when it happened; when Sally, who had believed along with Dolly Levi that the great loves, the violins and shooting stars, only happened once in a lifetime, found out that for the lucky few, the first great love was simply a precursor of the real thing. That a love that had grown slowly and surely over time, out of friendship and respect and shared lives, was just as shattering, just as exhilarating, and just as final. Her life crashed around her and rebuilt, changed for ever in the instant as their eyes met and held.

Spock was aware, of course, that some kind of seismic shift had just taken place. He hesitated; the moment seemed unpropitious for any kind of declaration.

'Spock, about that conversation…'

All the lights on the control board lit up at once.

'What the hell is that?' Sally leaned over the board, trying to decipher the alien configuration.

'I think you will find it means we are losing air,' Spock said matter-of factly.

'Oh, _crap_,' said Sally.

'Sir!' Uhura exclaimed. 'I have a message coming in. It's very faint…' She frowned in concentration. 'Sir, it's Fei Darian. She says they're headed back to us in a shuttlecraft. Co-ordinates confirm the ones you already gave us. She will prevent the Ujentan ship from following. Message ends, Captain.'

'What did I tell you?' McCoy said gleefully. 'I told you nothing could stand up against that combination, didn't I?'

'You did, doctor,' Kirk replied in a tone as dry as dust as he settled into the command chair.

So, McCoy thought. There were obviously emotional hurdles still to be cleared – and not before time. He took up his position behind Kirk's chair and said softly, for Kirk's ears alone,

'Don't be too hard on her, Jim.'

'Any other member of my crew would be court-martialled,' Kirk commented, but without heat. McCoy wasn't sure he wouldn't prefer blazing anger to that arid, cold tone.

'Not necessarily,' he retorted. 'You, for instance, have done some equally crazy things in your time. Jim, if you or Spock are in danger, it's physically and emotionally impossible for Sally to sit back and wait upon events. You know that. In the past, you've counted on it. Why is this time so different?'

'You're the psychologist,' Kirk said, without turning round. 'You tell me.'

'Sir, I have a message from Sally coming in,' Uhura announced. 'I think.'

'You think? Put it on audio, Uhura.'

A sharp crackle of static swept across the bridge. Then Sally's voice, cross and unmistakable, erupted from the speakers.

'I don't care, Spock, that can't be the air reading. Kilsyth to 'Enterprise', come in please. Of course this is the transmitter, you pompous Vulcan, I just haven't got the frequency set right. Kilsyth to 'Enterprise', Jim, come in please.'

Kirk moved across to Uhura's station and said into the microphone,

'I would if I could get a word in.'

'Jim, is that you?' Sally said, in tones of relief. 'Have you got our position?'

'We have. We're on our way. What was that about an air reading?'

'Well, there's a slight disagreement about that,' Sally said cautiously, 'but the upshot is that I say we have more than Spock says we have. Taking everything into consideration, I suspect we ought to go with Spock's estimate. Which does not make me very happy.'

'Why not, Sally?'

'Because according to Spock we only have an hour's worth left… what? Oh, my mistake. Fifty six point three five minutes. And Spock is hurt.'

'Hurt?' McCoy said. 'How?'

'He was stabbed. I've stopped the bleeding but it's quite a deep wound.'

'I'll have a medical team standing by,' Kirk said, holding up seven fingers to Sulu, who nodded. 'We're increasing speed now. What about you?'

'At maximum speed now. See you soon, Jim. Kilsyth out.'

''Enterprise' out, ' Kirk said, to empty static.

Sally's slender fingers rested on the communications switch for some seconds after she had broken the connection, as if in some way the fragile connection could bring her closer to the 'Enterprise' and safety. Then she leaned back in her chair and stole a glance at Spock. He had risen superbly to the occasion in spite of his pain and without his help Sally, for all of her bravado, could not have kept the little ship flying and on course.

'So,' she said. ' They won't get here in time, will they? This is how it ends. Funny. I always assumed I'd go out with a bang, not a whimper.'

'Elliot,' Spock said instantly. Into the short silence that followed, he asked diffidently, 'Are you afraid, Sally?'

'What, of dying? I don't think so. To die… will be an awfully big adventure.'

Spock was unable to place the quote this time. Sally laughed.

'Not quite as well-versed in Earth literature as you thought? I'll lend you the book, if we get out of this.' She un-strapped herself and stood up.

'Hold the fort, Spock. I'm going to take another look in the back.'

'For what?' Spock wanted to know.

'Something. Anything. Aren't you the one who says there are always alternatives?'

Yes, he had said it. And the longer he lived, the fewer alternatives there seemed to be.

He turned to watch Sally, ignoring the pain the movement caused him. He could see her only in glimpses, scrabbling cheerfully through every locker, every shelf, every cupboard the small craft possessed. Her feet were bare (she had discarded her impractical heels some time ago), her dress was spattered with blood, there were bruises on her arms and legs and her hair was in chaos. Her movements were quick and decisive and her eyes gleamed, cat-like, through the shadows of the half-light. She had never looked more beautiful to him.

No, Sally was not afraid of death. She would hold it at bay with every weapon she possessed but in the moment when surrender was unavoidable, she would accept her defeat quietly and with her own unique dignity.

Spock thought back to a conversation with McCoy which had taken place many years – and many light-years – away from this place. He recalled it still with vivid clarity.

"Do you know why you're not afraid of dying, Spock? You're more afraid of living. Every day you stay alive is one more day you might slip – and let your human half peek out. That's it, isn't it? Insecurity! You wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling!"

That was the first time McCoy's needling had managed to penetrate the Vulcan mask – and the first time he had seen he had done it.

Well, that was a long time and many layers of friendship ago. Spock had chosen his Vulcan path and not regretted it. Yet, there were times when the human had wondered. More than wondered.

There had been Kirk, unashamedly emotional in every area of his life, yet using those emotions to hone his command to a fine edge, using them to push himself beyond the limits of endurance and logic to win through time and time again against impossible odds, odds that Spock himself would have yielded to had it not been for Kirk. Kirk, who laughingly admitted to his mistakes, teasing Spock into humour with his sly grin and frank acknowledgement of his imperfections. Kirk, winning hearts all over the galaxy, commanding the respect and affections of his entire crew – and his First Officer.

There had been McCoy, finest doctor in the fleet and possibly beyond, goading Spock accurately with sharp flashes of insight that logic alone would never have allowed him to see, and arousing in Spock conflicting feelings of gratitude and resentment.

And for the last few years, there had also been Sally.

She had taught him more than he had thought could exist in the spectrum of human variation. Sally, loving her way through her life and the galaxy, scattering her favours with a complete lack of discrimination, caring without possessiveness, without envy and always with utter understanding. He had seen her guide many lovers into the arms of women more suited to them and happily rejoice in the result, which was contrary to all human ideas of love as Spock understood them.

Morally, Spock held no opinions one way or the other. After all, Sally's body was hers to do with as she pleased and years of observing Kirk's romantic encounters had inured him to most of the peculiarities of human sexuality. But Sally seemed to use her gift not to find love for herself, but for others. He suspected she had convinced herself that she would never love again and that she would resist the thought that she could; it was her one blind spot.

'Look what I found,' Sally said. She came back into the main cabin, a heavy blue cylinder floating in the air behind her. She snapped it upright beside him and said, 'I think this is oxygen. Shall we toss for which of us is going to be the guinea-pig?'

In the first place, I do not believe either of us has a coin to toss. In the second, both of us will die in any case if that is not oxygen.'

'I do admire your ability to so clearly state the choices,' Sally retorted, not in a tone of amusement. Before he could stop her, she had broken the seal on the mouthpiece and slipped it between her lips. All logic aside, he would still have preferred the first breath to have been his.

Sally expelled air noisily through her nostrils, crossed the fingers on both of her hands, winked at Spock and drew in a lungful of what was in the cylinder.

A few seconds went by.

'Well,' said Sally, freeing her mouth for the more important business of speech, 'since I haven't turned purple or fallen choking to the deck, one must logically assume this is, in fact, oxygen…'

'You are making admirable progress towards rational thinking,' Spock told her.

Kirk joined McCoy in Sickbay, wondering what the hell he was doing there. There was nothing in the galaxy he wanted less than to listen to McCoy pontificate on his captain's psychology, but something other than his will had urged him to agree to McCoy's peremptory demand for a meeting.

'Is the medical team ready?' he asked as he stepped through the doorway.

'Standing by in the hangar deck. Has Sally said how badly he's hurt?'

'Sally hasn't used the link. I know neither of them are dead. And that's all I do know.'

'You resent it, don't you?' McCoy said calmly. 'You resent the fact you can't do anything but wait. You resent it that she could go after him when you couldn't.'

'Yes, I do,' Kirk said, with a strong sense of relief that the truth was out. 'So help me, Bones, I came close to hating Sally today… Why? Why now? I should be glad there's someone else who can help us both if we're in trouble. I have been glad of it, in the past. This time, I just feel useless. She made me feel like I wasn't necessary.'

'There's more to it than that,' McCoy retorted. 'It's happened, hasn't it?'

'What has?'

'Sally's realised she's in love with Spock. And you know she has.'

'I thought – maybe,' Kirk admitted, taking a pace or two around the office. 'But, even if that were so, why should it make a difference?'

'How can it not make a difference?' McCoy demanded. 'Jim, ever since Sally came back on board, there has been the three of you – because _you_ wanted it that way. Spock accepted her for your sake long before he accepted her himself. All the way, the situation has been under your control.

'And now, the balance of the relationship has shifted. She stands at Spock's side, and by his choice. Not because you want it, but because they have both decided that's where she belongs. She will always love you. But she isn't yours any longer.'

'She was never mine,' Kirk pointed out.

'Not romantically. How often have you said 'My Sally'? How often have you thought it? You alone commanded her, and she always obeyed you. Are you sure she would now?'

'I don't think I've ever been sure of it,' Kirk said, attempting to inject some humour into a situation which was threatening to become intolerable. 'Bones, I knew there might come a time when Spock or I formed a relationship with a woman that was more than transient. I have thought about that. What it would mean. Ever since we had that conversation, I wondered what it would mean if the woman was Sally. I thought it might be best if the woman _was _Sally.'

'And now that it is? What now, Jim?'

There was a silence. Then Kirk looked up at him and grinned, the old, devil-may-care grin that had got him out of trouble on more than one occasion in the past.

'There will still be three, Bones. Four,' he added reaching for McCoy's shoulder. 'We'll see it through the way we always have done. Together. Nothing will change that.'

'Good,' McCoy responded, returning the clasp.

Now that the air had gone in the shuttle, it was very, very cold. Sally had found some blankets and in the end they sat huddled together in one chair, passing the mouthpiece between them like divers in trouble on the sea-bed.

-This is running out too, Spock-

-I am aware of it-

-How long before Jim gets here?-

-Twelve minutes, seventeen seconds, by my calculations-

-Will it last?-

-I think not-

She sensed the resolve in him before he even had time to think it, and moved closer to him, putting her free arm tightly around his shoulders.

-Do not get noble on me, Spock. It will be both of us, or neither-

-It would enable you to survive until the 'Enterprise' arrives-

-And watch you die in front of me? Never gonna happen-

-You would prefer that we watch each other die?-

-Both of us – or neither-

He said nothing more, but she knew that he took less and less oxygen each time the mouthpiece passed between them. She rested her head on his shoulder. She knew that she ought to say something, anything, to let him know how much he meant to her but she suspected that now, of all times, he would keep the Vulcan persona intact.

It had not taken Sally long to discover the secret Christine Chapel kept hidden beneath her brisk and professional behaviour. Her initial reaction had been unsympathetic, for she told herself she had no patience for lost causes; she now realised it was because rejection was something she had never experienced. Anyone she had ever wanted, she had, as Kirk said, just by lifting a finger.

But she was not sure of Spock. She was certainly not sure that, even if he did care for her, he would ever admit to it. Past history would seem to suggest otherwise…

She drew the last breath of air from the cylinder and lifted her face towards his.

-Spock…-

And thus it was the beams from the 'Enterprise' found them.

Kirk had been prepared to meet Sally with a blistering tirade but the readings from the shuttle had effectively banished any such intention. He gave instructions to beam Spock and Sally aboard as soon as they were in range rather than wait for the shuttle to dock, and arrived in the transporter room in a state of cold fear.

'Locking on to them now, sir,' Scott said.

Kirk turned towards the platform eagerly. Spock and Sally took shape slowly, almost hidden under the blanket, so still that Kirk thought for one awful moment they must both be dead. As the medical team rushed forward, Spock moved and began to draw in deep draughts of air. Sally disentangled herself and hauled herself unsteadily to her feet.

'Hi, Cap'n Jim,' she croaked.

'You stupid bloody woman,' he said, his voice shaking, 'what the hell did you think you were playing at?'

'Whatever it was, I don't think I want to play it again in a hurry,' said Sally with a lop-sided grin, as she fell into his arms and a dead faint.

She woke again in Sickbay and for the first few seconds was only aware of how warm and comfortable she was. Then memory returned and she sat bolt upright, saying, 'Spock?'

'No, you don't, young woman,' McCoy commanded, coming over and thrusting her legs back under the coverlet. 'You're staying right where you are.'

'Where's Spock?' Sally demanded, succumbing to these ministrations with a bad grace.

'Right behind you.' McCoy jerked a laconic thumb in that direction. Sally turned her head to see Spock regarding her quizzically from the next bed.

'How are you?' she asked.

'He's absolutely fine,' McCoy snapped. 'Whaddya take me and M'Benga for? If we couldn't patch up that tiny scratch between us…'

'I am quite well,' Spock told her gravely. 'And you?'

'Nothing wrong with me but wounded vanity,' she reminded him, with a grin that slipped a little. She eyed McCoy from under lowered lids and asked in a small voice, 'Is Jim very angry?'

'Angry? Oh, no,' McCoy retorted, in a tone loaded with sarcasm. 'Boiling mad and worried sick, maybe, but not _angry. _Nothing so damn simple,' he added, almost to himself.

'Ah,' said Sally. 'I was afraid of that… I don't suppose you could arrange for me to be terminally ill until he calms down again?'

'No, he could not,' Kirk said, coming into Sickbay in time to hear this last remark. Sally sought immediate refuge under the bedcovers.

'Come out of there,' Kirk snapped, exasperated. 'Anyone would think I was going to beat you.'

'Are you?' Sally asked, emerging by inches.

'It's an almost irresistible temptation, believe me.'

'Corporal punishment was outlawed on sailing vessels some centuries ago, however,' Spock commented.

'I am so terribly glad,' Sally said hollowly.

Kirk threw his First Officer a look which said, quite plainly, 'Keep out of this.' McCoy wondered whether he should absent himself but, receiving no dismissal from Kirk, stayed exactly where he was.

'You,' Kirk said to Sally, 'are without doubt the most disobedient, wilful and perverse female it has ever been my misfortune to meet. What in God's name possessed you to go off like that?'

The words 'without me' hung in the air between them like frost.

'There wasn't time to wait for you.' Sally, of course, sensed the root of the problem straight away.

There wasn't even time to think. Anyway, you didn't tell me not to.'

'Don't try and split hairs with me. Did it occur to you that you might be jeopardising Spock? My ship?'

'Captain…' Spock began.

'Shut up, Spock,' McCoy drawled out of the corner of his mouth.

'Well, of course it occurred to me!' Sally sat bolt upright on the bed with her eyes beginning to flash. 'I admit it was a stupid, dangerous thing to do, but I would do it again like a shot if I had to. I would have gone after you, too, has that crossed your mind? You know I can't be rational if you or Spock are in danger, so if you're going to court-martial me for being myself then just go right ahead and see if I care!'

'There is no question of that, so let us have no histrionics,' Kirk said cuttingly. 'The minute McCoy certifies you fit for duty, I'm putting you on a double work shift. _That_ ought to cure your exuberance.'

'For sure,' Sally muttered, casting a relieved, if slightly resentful, look up at him. 'Jim…'

Kirk, with a sigh, reached out and ruffled her curls. Maintaining discipline with Sally had always been a problem and he was aware that the times he had allowed her to go her length made his present behaviour even stranger. He said,

'You had us all very worried. Don't do it again.'

'Hmmm,' said Sally in non-committal tone, which sounded distinctly unrepentant to Kirk. He eyed her suspiciously and Spock said hastily,

'What is the situation concerning the Ujentan ship, Captain?'

'Better than it might have been,' Kirk replied, with a glance at Sally which suggested this was small thanks to her. 'Fei seems to have brought the Vice-President round to her point of view. She sent a message a few minutes ago apologising for the… inconvenience. Bones, unpeel yourself from that wall and give me an update on your patients' condition.'

'I recommend a couple of days in bed for both of them, Jim,' McCoy said, winking at Sally.

'Whose side are you on?' Kirk complained, catching him at it.

'Everybody's,' McCoy said dryly. 'Stop making it so difficult and beat it so my patients can get some well-earned…' he caught Kirk's satirical expression and amended, 'much needed rest.'

'Right,' Kirk said, clearly unimpressed. Sally hurtled off the bed in a tangle of long legs and hair, hugged him enthusiastically, whispered, 'I'm sorry, Jim,' and then retired back under the covers, assuming the expression of an injured saint. Kirk found himself grinning at her before he could help himself.

'That's better,' McCoy said, in a tone of satisfaction. 'C'mon, Jim, I've got a prescription for you in my office. No talking, you two.'

They left together and the door hissed quietly shut behind them. Sally expelled her breath in a long sigh and said, 'I am so glad that's over. Spock, are you really okay?'

'I believe I am fully operational, Miss Kilsyth.'

'So it would appear,' Sally retorted. She turned her head to find him regarding her with the expression which was usually the closest he ever came to showing amusement, one eyebrow on the rise, the mouth just slightly more relaxed than usual. She had seen that expression many times before.

'Oh my God,' was what she thought now, 'I am so _deeply_ in the shit.'

In McCoy's office, Kirk was saying,

'Bones, its time I did some matchmaking of my own.'

'You?' McCoy snorted. 'Subtlety is what we need here, and, with the greatest of respect, Jim, with you the words 'Klingon' and 'battle-axe' spring immediately to mind.'

'Which is why I'm asking you,' Kirk pointed out. 'Any ideas?'

'Strange that you should mention it,' McCoy said. 'As it happens, I do…'

28


	10. Chapter 10

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER TEN – VULCAN

'Spock,' said McCoy, sticking his head round his office door, 'got a minute?'

Spock paused in his measured pace down the corridor and replied,

'A moment only, Dr McCoy. I am on my way to the bridge.'

'This won't take long.' McCoy gestured him into the office and continued, 'Its about Sally.'

'Miss Kilsyth?' Spock's face assumed, if that were possible, an even more withdrawn cast than usual.

'And how many other Sallys do we know?' McCoy demanded. 'Have you spoken to her recently?'

'As I am sure you are aware, doctor, we have been on the same bridge shift for the past eleven days. Our last discussion, since it seems to be of interest to you, concerned the inter-field anomalies…'

'No, Spock, blast it, that's not what I'm talking about,' McCoy snapped, inwardly cursing the Vulcan's literal-mindedness which was making this conversation even more difficult than he had anticipated. 'She's still complaining that she's 'fuzzy'. I'm not trying to pry but her health, telepathic or otherwise, is my business and I'm worried. I just wondered if she'd said anything to you about it, that's all.'

'She has not mentioned anything of the sort to me,' Spock said, and did not add that Sally had been avoiding him since their release from Sickbay. 'This is most disturbing. What course of treatment do you recommend?'

'There isn't much I can do for her, as you know. What I'd like is for her to spend some time with T'Pern, the woman who trained her.'

'But T'Pern is on Vulcan.'

'Yes, Spock,' McCoy said patiently. 'I know she is. And that's where I'd like Sally to go. We're all getting shore leave in any case during this refit that's coming up and I could kill two birds with one stone by sending her to Vulcan.'

'That seems perfectly straightforward to me, doctor. Why, then, are you consulting me?'

'Because she doesn't want to go and nothing I've said so far has changed her mind.'

'Then exert your authority.'

McCoy snorted.

'On S_ally?_ You know better than that. The last time I brought the subject up she retired to her cabin for a sit in sulk and threw a shoe at me when I tried to reason with her.'

'Doctor,' Spock said primly, 'the physical and mental health of the crew is your prime consideration. If Miss Kilsyth is refusing to undertake the treatment you prescribe then your brief allows you to order her to do so, no matter what objections she raises.'

'I'm very well aware of what my brief allows me to do,' McCoy retorted. 'It's just that Sally's objections tend to be extremely loud and, on occasion, distinctly hazardous to _my _health.'

'Surely your facilities here can provide you with a pair of ear plugs.'

'Spock,' said McCoy suspiciously, 'did you just make a joke?'

'Certainly not.' The Vulcan looked affronted. 'I merely made a suggestion based on my knowledge of the volume of decibels Miss Kilsyth can achieve when she sets her mind to it.'

'Well, thanks a lot, Spock, but actually,' said McCoy, taking the plunge, 'I was looking for suggestions of a more… practical nature.'

'Such as?'

'Such as how to get Sally to Vulcan without knocking her out and gagging her.'

'I fail to see how I can help you achieve that object.'

'Aren't you spending your leave with your parents? I was wondering if you could possibly invite Sally to go with you. She really likes your mother. And if you were there, you could make sure she actually went to her classes. Of course, I wouldn't want to impose on your family…'

There was a pause. Then,

'I am sure my mother would be perfectly amenable to the suggestion, if you believe Miss Kilsyth will accept the invitation.'

'Oh, I think I can pretty much guarantee that,' McCoy said.

Kirk, meantime, was calling on Sally in her cabin.

She looked her usual picture of blazing health, but Kirk knew she was unhappy. He also knew that, for the first time in all the years he had known her, she did not have a lover – a situation unprecedented in his experience.

She welcomed his visit without much eagerness, but he affected not to notice this and sat down on the bed, watching her as she put up her hair before going on duty.

'I need your advice, Sally.'

'What's new about that? Fire away, Cap'n Jim.'

'It's about Spock.'

'Spock?' Her expression was unusually guarded. 'What about him?'

'You know him as well as I do, and you also know he'd never admit he needs a rest. And he is looking… strained these days.'

'Agreed on all counts,' Sally said, watching his expression closely in her mirror. 'So?'

'So I think it would be a good idea for him to take his shore leave on Vulcan, with his family. But unless I make it a direct order, I don't think he'll do it. He'll probably stay on board for the re-fit, supervising the overhaul of the library computer.'

She turned to look at him directly then, a clear and questing gaze, and Kirk was visited by a momentary qualm. Spock, to whom the word 'subterfuge' was only a term in military language, was likely to accept what McCoy told him at face value. Sally, on the other hand, was a five star general when it came to the relationships between the sexes and all the subtleties involved therein; was she going to see through this stratagem all too clearly?

'Am I to provide him with a reason for going that does not require him to admit to a weakness on his own part?'

So – she had seen that much of it.

'If,' Kirk said, very carefully, 'we could tell him that it's vital for you to work with T'Pern again – and it wouldn't do you any harm – I think I can persuade him to invite you to stay with his parents again. After that, Vulcan courtesy would dictate that he went with you.'

'Would it?' She turned away from him again, unaware in that moment that the mirror reflected a face which was confused and dejected. He had to make a real effort to sit where he was, not tell her that he was doing all he could to make sure his two best friends had their happy ending. Then she was smiling at him, the woman who was his friend and Spock's, who would do anything to save either of them from harm.

'Okay, Cap'n Jim. If you think it'll work, I'll be your bait.'

Kirk stood up and deliberately messed up her neat curls.

'I knew I could count on you,' he said.

The chief conspirators met up in Kirk's cabin some ten minutes later.

'Well?' McCoy asked, as Kirk poured out the drinks.

Kirk grinned.

'She swallowed it,' he said, handing McCoy a glass. 'And Spock?'

'Hook, line and sinker,' McCoy said with satisfaction.

The glasses chinked together.

Kirk and McCoy were as satisfied as they could be with their undercover work, given that Spock and, more recently Sally, had been at pains to hide their feelings from each other as well as the world. There were far too many things to go wrong with their nebulous plan if neither of them were at hand to help things along.

It was therefore an unexpected bonus when Spock, possibly feeling there was safety in numbers, formally invited both Kirk and McCoy to also spend their leave on Vulcan. Another two brandies were secretly consumed on the strength of this proposal.

Kirk had another reason for looking forward to the visit. Eowyn, currently on a joint mission to Denevan with Sarek, would be joining them for the latter part of their stay.

Sally was exceedingly interested in this piece of information.

'Sally,' Kirk said, eyeing the assorted mounds of bags and cases lining the transporter room walls, 'what the hell have you got in there?'

'Clothes,' Sally said briefly.

'We're going to Vulcan, not some polar wasteland.'

'I know that,' Sally informed him indignantly. 'I've only packed hot weather gear.'

Kirk eyed askance the floating smock she wore. It fell from neck to feet in a series of loose, shimmering folds and was undoubtedly suitable for Vulcan's heat-baked climate. It was also almost completely transparent and she was wearing very little underneath it.

'God help us,' he sighed.

'What did you say?' Sally demanded, bristling.

Fortunately, Spock and McCoy walked in before battle could be fairly joined. Each was carrying a small holdall.

'See?' Kirk said, pointing. 'None of us is taking the equivalent of three large wardrobes.'

'None of you,' said Sally, smiling sweetly at him, 'have got my figure.'

Kirk had to admit that this was undeniable, though he was not sure he understood its relevance, since Sally's chief method of displaying this asset was to wear as little as was decently possible.

They mounted the transporter platform. Scott, who was taking the ship on to Starbase 11, said from behind the console,

'Have a grand time, now. Dinna worry, Captain. The ship's in guid hands.'

'I know, Scotty. Take good care of her.'

'That I will, sir,' Scott assured him.

They materialised, as Kirk had on the occasion of his last visit, in Amanda Sarek's gracious garden. She was waiting for them there, serene and as lovely as ever, with a slight smile of welcome on her face.

Her eyes fell on Sally, and widened momentarily.

'I see you haven't changed, Sally,' she said.

'Not at all,' Sally replied cheerfully, correctly and unconcernedly divining the meaning behind this statement. 'Smack 'em between the eyes at fifty paces, that's still my motto. It's great to see you, Amanda.'

'And you,' Amanda said, responding to Sally's hearty hug and kiss with a salute that was more restrained, but just as affectionate. She welcomed her son and other guests and made her way up to the house, arm in arm with Sally, saying, 'I believe all of the florists in Shi'Khar have stocked up on red roses in anticipation of a surge in business…'

Kirk, watching them together, was visited with an uneasy feeling that he might have miscalculated somewhere. No two women could have been more unalike, yet Amanda was a human who, in her younger days, might have been as demonstrative and open as Sally was now. Since her marriage to Sarek she had accepted the Vulcan way of life by choice as well as by custom, and its dignity suited her quiet beauty well.

There was absolutely no situation Kirk could envisage where Sally, that gaudy creature, would behave in the demure and submissive manner a Vulcan would consider proper in a wife. And Spock had chosen to live as a Vulcan. Could he in all seriousness be considering such an unsuitable pairing?

'You thinking what I'm thinking?' Kirk muttered to McCoy.

'Sure am, Jim,' McCoy muttered back. 'But you know me. I've never let centuries of Vulcan tradition get in _my_ way…'

Dinner that first night went well. Kirk and McCoy, out of uniform for the first time in as long as either of them could remember, seemed to slough off their responsibilities with their outfits and became simply old friends, not captain and chief medic. Spock, very elegant in traditional Vulcan garb, took Sarek's place at the head of the table and was a courteous and attentive host. Amanda's cuisine was superb, her person no less so.

And, of course, there was Sally.

There had been times Kirk believed the superlative had not yet been invented which could describe her beauty, and tonight she was simply beyond words. With her hair piled regally on top of her head and poppy-red tendrils flaming at her forehead, she was clad in a long and full-skirted gown of no particular colour but when she moved, the pale, sheeny fabric glittered with iridescent flashes of purple, blue, pink, green and gold. The fine bones of her face and bare shoulders gleamed like old ivory and around her neck she wore a collar of delicate stones, each tiny circle spinning with rainbow lights.

Sally was essentially an earthy woman – not in the coarse sense but because she had both feet firmly planted on the ground, and in reality. Her beauty, too, had never been a spiritual thing demanding worship, merely a feature of a warm and generous woman who was always human.

But tonight she was Ariel, spun-clouds and gossamer. Tonight she was the T'Aramu.

It could hardly have been more fitting that here on Vulcan she should assume the persona of her namesake, for Vulcans and Romulans have many things in common and one of these, Kirk had discovered, was the legend of the T'Aramu.

Sally, T'Aramu, Firewoman, She Who Flies on the Wind, she was all of these.

She was also – Kirk's.

As Spock stood by Kirk's side, and under his command – and by his own choice – then so did Sally. The Vulcan would say respect and duty kept him there – and mean love.

Sally would just say love.

Spock was the comrade of a hundred adventures, their now legendary friendship the result of years learning to trust each other, learning to care and to admit that they cared.

Sally had walked in there, into his mind, the easy path – and it had never mattered. With her, the isolation of command had ended forever because there was now one person who knew exactly what he suffered, who would comfort, advise, sympathise and even argue with him if he needed her – and keep silent if he did not. The day when he had feared his ability to command would be affected by her presence had died for good during the link's long silence. He had known then that, although he did not need her to function, did not depend on her, the warmth of her presence in his mind had become a part of him he did not want to lose. It no longer mattered he could hide little from her. She loved him, so he held her – not always willingly, not always silently – but he held her under his command. Sally's power and Spock's abilities could have led them down many paths away from Kirk, and still they remained by his side.

Whatever happened here, it would always be so.

Kirk, Spock and the T'Aramu. Stand them together, and what in the Universe could gainsay them?

-Jim-

Sally's voice, soft, for him alone. He looked over at her and only when he saw her blurred outline did he realise his eyes had filled with tears.

-Did you get that?-

-Some. Enough. You're right. Always. With you-

She reached out one delicate hand to him and he took it between both of his own, holding it so tightly that he must have hurt her, but she made no protest. Her own woodsmoke violet eyes were glittering with a moisture which had nothing to do with his grip on her fingers.

Then she grinned at him and through the link came laughter and an effervescent lightness spread over the profound emotion still echoing between them.

-What?-

-We're on _Vulcan, _for God's sake. All this illogical love business is in the worst possible taste-

He laughed out loud at that, drawing every eye upon him, and kissed Sally's hand before he let it go.

After dinner, Sally took possession of the couch where she looked so lovely that no-one had the heart to ask her to make room. Amanda, sitting on a chair by her side, seemed more than content to let her guest be the centre of attention.

'What are your plans for tomorrow, Sally?' McCoy asked.

'Sleep,' Sally replied instantly. 'Shop. Play chess.' ('Not with me,' Kirk interposed.) 'Sit in the garden and read books, if Spock and Amanda will allow me to raid their library.'

'Certainly, if you have time,' Spock said. 'However, you have appointments with T'Pern each morning in the Meditation Centre.'

'Don't I get even one day of holiday?' Sally protested, resting her chin on the arm of the couch and gazing soulfully at Spock with the forlorn air of a kitten who has just been unreasonably deprived of a bowl of milk. Kirk, not even attempting to mask the smile this expression induced in him, asked,

'Is it so much like work?'

'Hmmmm, no,' Sally said hesitantly. 'Though it's hard, like…like being a gymnast but you've had an accident that's put you out of action for six months. You still know how to make the moves, but you have to train your muscles all over again. It stretches you. It…' She waved her hand vaguely through the air and Spock said,

'Dilates.'

She nodded, and added, with her eyes half closed,

'Cosmic… there's so much space inside a mind, you just wouldn't believe it… infinity with boundaries.'

'Which is a distinct contradiction in terms,' Spock said, in the Vulcan tone.

Sally sat up straight and retorted briskly,

'It was meant to be, Spock, don't be pompous.'

'Sally, the Vulcan science of mind is precise above all else. Emotive inaccuracies are not the best way of describing its function.'

Sally's skirts billowed and scintillated with hundreds of points of flashing colour as she turned to face him, and smiled. Kirk saw comradeship suddenly spring into life between them again.

'Inaccuracies aside, you understood what I meant. _Didn't _you?'

'To understand is not necessarily to approve,' Spock said primly.

He is baiting her, Kirk thought. He is doing it deliberately, and enjoying it.

'Spock,' Sally said crossly, 'I really hate your habit of weaselling out of an argument by going all Vulcan on me.'

'I happen to be right,' Spock said.

'You just _sound _right,' Sally snapped, her eyes beginning to flash.

'Stop fighting,' Kirk said automatically.

'It's a discussion,' Sally and McCoy said in unison, at which point Sally began to snort with hysterical laughter and fell off the couch in an undignified tangle of skirts and hair.

'I'm afraid this is Sally's idea of after-dinner conversation,' Kirk said apologetically to Amanda, after order had been restored and Sally had regained a modicum of precarious control. 'Are you sure you can put up with a month of it?'

'Don't forget, she has stayed here before, and things were… lively.' Amanda rested an affectionate hand on Sally's bright head for a moment. 'Besides, I find her refreshing. I must admit, Sally says many things I have often wanted to, and never quite dared to.'

'Why not?' Sally wanted to know. 'It's easy.'

'For you, I daresay it is,' Amanda said, watching her son out of the corner of her eye. 'You only have the one Vulcan to deal with, after all.'

'One is more than enough,' McCoy was heard to mutter darkly.

'Oh, bring 'em all on,' Sally said lightly, waving a magnanimous hand. 'They are only people.'

And it was that small phrase which finally brought Sally into clear focus for Kirk, and he understood how it was she had been able to make friends wherever she chose, finally winning for herself even a Vulcan's trust.

Because she did not categorise. She did not label. She had no patience with pre-conceptions and made no judgements. She treated everyone she met with the same warm familiarity, offered her friendship without restrictions or conditions, asked for nothing in return that was beyond their power to give.

Because she asked for nothing, she was always victorious. Had won over Kirk, then McCoy and finally even Spock. She made no conscious effort to be loved. She was a law of nature, and as such, irresistible.

Kirk came out of this reverie to hear Amanda say,

'Sally, it's not polite in any culture to insult your host and threatening to 'sock him a good one' is quite beyond the pale.'

'He started it,' said the law of nature, with a martial light in her eye.

'You really must restrain your impulse to resort to physical violence when you are losing an argument,' Spock said disapprovingly.

'If he will insist on speaking to me in that infuriating smug way, what else can I do but hit him?' Sally said to Amanda. 'Anyway, I wasn't losing the argument, I was just marshalling my forces. If you think for one minute…'

Kirk decided the time had come to exert his authority.

'Sally, shut up,' he said.

'But, Jim…'

He stood up, stretched out a hand and hauled her, protesting, to her feet.

'It's time for your pre-beauty sleep walk. Coming, Bones?'

'I'm not tired,' Sally objected, by no means pleased with her schedule for the rest of the evening.

'I realise that, but I hope you will be after I've marched you round the garden fifty times,' Kirk replied, and heard Amanda give a tiny chuckle.

'Count me out of that,' McCoy said, less enthusiastic. 'I'll watch.'

'It'll be good for you,' Kirk said ruthlessly, ushering them both towards the open window. 'Besides, it's time Spock and his mother had a little privacy.'

'Oh, that's fair. Come on then, race you both.'

'In _that_ get-up?' McCoy asked incredulously, but she was already gone, picking up her heavy skirts and kicking off her shoes. Kirk hesitated for a split second and went after her. McCoy followed at a much more sedate pace, muttering, 'They are mad, both of them.'

Amanda rose from her chair, gesturing the beam-operated main light off as she did so. The room suddenly filled with starlight and the silver glow from T'Khut, so close they could almost have touched it. She stood quite still, hands folded calmly in front of her, watching her son. She could see his profile quite clearly, though the eyes were in shadow.

'The captain is behaving most illogically,' Spock complained.

'He's human, and on holiday. A combination that does strange things to one's logic circuits, I assure you.'

'I am aware of it,' Spock replied. His eyes were fixed on the garden, and Amanda turned her head to see what he was watching.

Over the calm white pathways and elegant flowerbeds, Sally Kilsyth was giving a highly convincing impersonation of a hoyden. Her rich laughter bubbled across the silence as she darted from place to place, her dress glimmering and glowing like the heady sparkle of a fallen star. It looked as though she and Kirk were playing a game of tag, albeit an extremely undisciplined one.

'She has absolutely no conception of proper behaviour,' Spock said, indignantly. 'She is a grown woman, and she acts like a child.'

Amanda moved closer and stole a look at the shadowed face. What she saw there made her say, gently probing,

'She is enchanting, though, isn't she?'

There was a long silence. As Amanda held her breath, Sally performed a series of inelegant cartwheels across the lawn. Then Spock turned to face his mother and said, very deliberately,

'Yes. She is.'

The days assumed a pattern very quickly. They rose early to gain the benefit of the relative coolness of the morning air, enjoying a leisurely breakfast together before Sally departed for her lessons at the meditation centre. Spock and Amanda were excellent hosts. If their guests wanted to sit about and read or play chess, they were accommodated; if they were feeling more energetic, there was always a suggestion ready for a place to see or visit. Thus Spock conducted both Kirk and McCoy to the Fire Plains and the spectacular Vulcan's Forge, and the superb architecture of the temple of Amonak.

Sally took great exception to this, as these visits took place while she was otherwise engaged, and she cornered Spock one afternoon to expostulate that it wasn't fair, she was working and they were all on holiday, she hadn't seen much of Vulcan during her last visit and unless he wanted to witness a tantrum of massive proportions he had better see to it that something was planned to include her, immediately. She managed this entire sentence without once drawing breath.

As a result of this conversation, Kirk found himself being rudely awakened very early the next day by Sally, who came charging into his room without bothering to knock.

'Okay, Kirk, rise and shine!' she shrieked, crossing the floor in two leaps and bouncing on to the bed beside him. 'We're all going out today come hell or pathetic excuses, so get dressed.'

'Out?' Kirk repeated, sitting up and clutching at a dangerously shifting sheet. 'Out? It's the middle of the night.'

'Sun's up,' Sally retorted, 'and so had you better be, pretty quick, or nasty things will happen to you. Put your clothes on at once.'

'Where are we going?' Kirk asked, deciding not to comment on the fact that Sally herself, as usual, could hardly be described as 'clothed'.

Sally swung her legs over his body to sit cross-legged beside him, and assumed the pleading expression of a pitiful orphan without a friend in the world.

'Jim, you and Bones have been going off on all this fun sightseeing without me. We haven't done anything together. Spock and Amanda are going to take us to the L-langon Mountains and Amanda has made a picnic with the most amazing food in it. You'll love it. Get up!'

Kirk resigned himself to the inevitable. He said,

'Fine. Ten minutes. Now beat it and let me get dressed in peace.'

'Going now.' She suited the action to the word, and two seconds later Kirk heard her hammering on McCoy's door.

There were times when Kirk found it very hard to believe that Sally Kilsyth was all of twenty-five years old.

A few hours later, lying with his back against warm rock and his stomach full to bursting point with Amanda's quite superb food, Kirk had to admit the trip had been worth the early awakening.

Spock had piloted the hover over the length of the city which had looked, if that were possible, even more sombrely beautiful from the air, and then over the desert towards the L-Langon mountains. Vulcan was not a particularly hospitable planet for humans but it was spectacular and Sally had actually been awed into silence – an occurrence which prompted McCoy to ask if they could take the trip every day. The mountain range was dominated by the flat, stepped peak of T'Samr, and rose towering out of the sands in impossibly huge and sculptured shapes.

They ate their meal in a cleft at the base of T'Samr. The high walls of rock had given them welcome shade from the heat of the sun and had the added benefit of a tiny waterfall of mineral water which, though warm, was refreshing.

Sally shaded her eyes from the glare of the heavens with her hand and followed the glint of water upwards.

'It looks as though it comes down from the peak,' she said to Spock.

'Not quite. There is a large plateau some five hundred metres from the summit where the water has formed a pool over the centuries, forced upwards through cracks in the rock by the heat. It overflows there and formed the waterfall.'

'A plateau?' Sally looked up again at the vast form of red and gold rock above her. 'There must be a wonderful view.'

'Oh, yes, quite spectacular, especially in the evenings,' Amanda said.

'You've been up, then?' McCoy eyed the mountain unenthusiastically. 'Quite a climb.'

'Sarek took me when I first came to Vulcan,' Amanda explained. 'As you say, it is quite a climb, although there is a path, of sorts.' She smiled slightly and added, 'I was a good deal younger then, of course. I couldn't do it now.'

'Bet I could,' Sally asserted, looking around her for support. 'Is anybody game?'

Kirk glanced quickly at McCoy from under lowered lids.

'I'm a doctor, not a mountaineer,' McCoy said instantly.

'Jim? Come on, climbing mountains is your hobby. You must want to have a go at this one.'

'Not in this climate, I don't.' And Kirk closed his eyes and settled his shoulders more firmly against the rock behind him.

'Take the hover up,' Amanda suggested.

'Oh, no, climbing's half the fun,' Sally protested.

'But it would take you all afternoon just to get up there,' Amanda pointed out practically. 'You'd have to spend the night, you most certainly couldn't come down in the dark.'

'I wouldn't mind that,' Sally said wistfully. 'Spending your life in a starship really makes you appreciate the wide open spaces and fresh air when you get them.'

'You aren't going up alone,' Amanda said, very decidedly.

'She will not have to,' Spock said. 'If you would like to make the attempt, Sally, I am willing to accompany you.'

Sally grinned happily at him.

'That's a very noble offer. Do you mean it?'

'He'd better,' Kirk said, without opening his eyes, 'because if I know you, you'll make our lives a living hell if you don't get what you want.'

'Is that an order, Captain?'

'Yes, Mr Spock, it is.' Kirk opened his eyes and yawned, affecting nonchalance. 'I'll see Amanda gets home safely and come out to collect you tomorrow. Okay, Sally?'

'Fantastic,' Sally said happily.

'Take the rest of the food and drink with you,' Amanda was packing up the remains of the meal. 'Spock, there's a backpack in the hover with blankets and spare water. You'll find a jumpsuit and decent boots in there for Sally, too; she can't possibly go mountaineering in that outfit.' She eyed Sally's bare legs and torso as Spock obediently went over to the hover.

'Amanda! You _knew_ I'd want to do this.'

'I know I would have wanted to – and you and I are more alike than you realise.'

Now what, exactly, Kirk thought, did that mean? He was beginning, belatedly, to realise there were undercurrents here which had nothing to do with any plan he and McCoy had hatched; so he sat up a little straighter and prepared to take an interest in the next few minutes.

Spock returned with the backpack and Sally's more practical clothing; showing unusual modesty, Sally retired behind an outcrop to change. McCoy collected his med kit from the hover and injected Sally with Tri-ox, giving Spock a further hypo to be injected after twelve hours. Spock handed it to Amanda, to be packed with the remainder of the food. As their hands touched over it, she smiled up at him and gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

Oh, my God, thought Kirk.

Spock slung the bag easily over his shoulder as Sally joined him. She had tied her hair up loosely and looked as if she had every intention of enjoying herself.

'Don't break anything,' McCoy said.

'Take care of her, Spock,' said Amanda.

He nodded and gave his hand to Sally to pull her up the first steep incline. Sally had glanced away from him to bid Amanda goodbye, and therefore did not see the expression that flickered momentarily on his face.

But Kirk did.

Amanda's hand came down quietly but firmly on his arm.

They watched in silence until Spock and Sally were out of earshot.

'Amanda, I rather think I've been amazingly obtuse,' Kirk said. 'I thought you didn't know.'

'Not know?' Amanda turned a face that was frankly incredulous towards him. 'Not know? _He is my son._ I have known for years.'

'How?' McCoy asked. 'These past few days have been the first time you've ever seen them together.'

'For heaven's sake,' Amanda snapped, with the first flash of temper Kirk had ever witnessed from her, 'he writes to me! And so does Sally, for that matter.'

'So they wrote about each other?'

'Oh, I don't suppose either one of them realised quite how much they were giving away. But reading between the lines is a gift you acquire when you are married to one Vulcan and mother to another. I knew… oh, long ago. Before either one of them suspected, I think.'

'And do you approve?' Kirk wanted to know.

Amanda smiled. The still lovely eyes were pensive and years of self-imposed discipline had etched a camouflage over her features, but Kirk thought triumph radiated quietly from her.

'Approve? Absolutely.'

'But…' said Kirk.

'She's human? Well, so am I.'

'But, ' Kirk said again, 'you've adapted. Sally won't, Amanda.'

'I haven't seen the slightest indication that Spock wants her to do so. Jim, I am not Sally and Sarek is a full Vulcan. We found a way that suited us, and if it has not always been easy, well, there have been compensations too. Spock and Sally must find their own way.'

'And Sarek?' McCoy asked. 'What does Sarek say to all this?'

Amanda said, very crisply,

'Sarek has set his son such an appalling example that he had best say very little indeed. Shall we go, gentlemen?'

The sun had started to set by the time Sally scrambled ungracefully after Spock on to the plateau. She was hot, tired, bruised and quite remarkably dirty and she knew her muscles would be screaming at her after a few hours, but she strolled across the smooth stone triumphantly, feeling she had not done too badly.

Spock waited for her, standing by the plateau's far edge as she sauntered over to him, hands jammed into the pockets of her overalls.

'Oh, _wow,_' she said.

Directly in front of her, Vulcan's sun was setting in all its fiery splendour, lighting up the fire of her own hair into a halo around her head. The sky was streaked with shades of red and gold, from deepest crimson to palest, creamy primrose. The desert gave back fire for fire and between these two extremes lay the city, an oasis of spires and white stone, glinting where the sun's final rays caught a window or picked out shards of silver in the stone.

'Well?' Spock said from beside her.

'It was worth it,' Sally said, with a sigh of pure contentment. 'Amanda was right about the view; I wouldn't have missed this for anything. I'm damn glad we don't have to go down on foot tomorrow, though. Where's the food? All this exercise has done wonders for my appetite.'

She went over to the pack and sat down cross legged beside it, giving a running commentary as she unpacked its contents.

'Ho, some of that amazing chocolate cake, great. Sandwiches, too. This box of salad stuff must be for you, there's no carbohydrate or sugar in it, so I'm not touching it… water…more water…ooh fruit, excellent, pity we haven't any ice cream… blankets…Oh, look, how organised is your mother? She's even put in some clean clothes for me…' Seconds later, hoot after hoot of laughter rang out across the mountain and Spock turned to see Sally laughing til tears ran down her cheeks.

'My God, what was Amanda thinking?' She held something very sheer and light in her hands, but to Spock it did not look much different to her usual outfits, and he said so.

'Dear Spock, you wouldn't know this, but this is my absolute best lingerie. Arkan spider silk, tremendously expensive, would pass through the eye of a needle, never mind a wedding ring.' There was a slight hiatus while she explained this concept to Spock. She had noticed that Spock could always be relied upon to forget embarrassment when his curiosity was engaged. 'The point, Spock, is that a woman just does not wear this kind of thing unless she has every expectation of having it removed at some point in the evening. And Amanda would have known that.'

'I am sure that my mother did not…'

'Nor are you the only child in the galaxy who finds it hard to believe their parents ever had anything to do with sex. Trust me on this one. Amanda would have known exactly what this is for. I wonder why she put it in? However, you will have to put up with my lack of clothing for once, since this is all I have to wear. Is that pool safe to bathe in?'

'Bathe? Spock looked mildly disconcerted.

'Yes, bathe,' Sally repeated, enunciating the word precisely. 'Verb, transitive, origin Old English. Meaning: to take a bath; a swim, or dip. Oh, yes.' Sally had found the pool, hidden behind a small outcrop of rock. She bent down and tested the temperature with her hand. It was warm.

'Care to join me?' she said to Spock, unlacing her boots. He could not see her face, but the tone was not quite her usual casual mischievousness.

'I will make up the camp and leave you to your ablutions in peace,' he said.

By the time she emerged from the water, full darkness had fallen and Spock had made up the beds, a small fire and some coffee. The light was dim but it was certainly true that the silk chemise might just as well not have been there; however Spock, for reasons of his own, had for once no desire to complain.

'Good, good, you've done all the work,' Sally said. 'Oooh, coffee.'

She picked up her cup and ambled over to the plateau edge. Spock followed her and stood behind her; she shivered slightly, although the night was still warm.

'Look at the stars,' she said. 'I've never seen a sky so full of stars. I bet you know all their names, too.'

'Yes,' Spock admitted. 'Do you wish to know them?'

'Oh, hell, no,' Sally replied, and started to laugh again.

'May I know the joke?' Spock enquired politely.

Sally snorted a couple more times and then said,

'Well, you should at least understand the irony. Spock, this is just luscious. Possibly the most romantic setting I have ever been in. Warm night, stars twinkling, fantastic view, best undies. I mean, let's be frank, we both know I can be seduced with a bar of chocolate, never mind a set-up like this. And who am I here with? A bloody Vulcan!'

She tilted her head up to look at him, a slightly self-mocking smile on her mouth, knowing he would appreciate the incongruity, waiting for the lift of the eyebrow that would show her he did.

And Spock kissed her.

As first kisses go, it was not exactly the end of the fairytale. The princess, in fact, jumped back like a scalded cat, dropped her coffee and shouted,

'What the bloody hell was _that_?'

'Not quite the reaction I was hoping for,' Spock said, thus demolishing the myth that Vulcans have no sense of humour. 'Did you not just express a desire for seduction?'

'Yes, but you _know _I was joking… oh, wait a minute.' Her face lit with sudden comprehension. 'This would be Pon Farr, then.'

'No, Sally,' Spock said, managing to preserve his calm, albeit after a short but severe internal struggle.

'In that case, I have absolutely no idea what's going on.'

'That,' Spock said wryly, 'has been abundantly clear for quite some time. May we focus on the main issue?'

'Main issue. Yes. Certainly. Main issue. Um… and that would be…?'

'How do you feel?'

'How do I _feel? _ How do I feel, hmmm…' She was walking round in circles, running her hands through her hair, holding it away from her head as if to release weight from her brain. 'How do I feel, now, there's a question…'

Spock sighed, grasped her arms, pulled her towards him and kissed her again.

The second kiss was a good deal more successful. Sally was expecting it, for one thing and was able to give it the attention it deserved. For another, Spock allowed all of his blocks against her to fall.

And there it was, laid out before her, all secrets revealed, honesty at last between them. And Sally reciprocated, dropping her own defences in return so that he understood how much she had hidden, even from herself.

'It's always been you,' she said. 'Always.' She raised her head slightly to look into his eyes but made no move to free herself. 'Considering that we are linked, we seemed to have managed to keep a remarkable number of secrets from each other.'

'We have.'

'Yes, but you at least admitted the truth to yourself. I didn't even do that. Are you absolutely certain you want to spend the rest of your life with someone as abysmally stupid as I am?'

'I am certain I could spend it with no-one else.'

'I'll never be able to cook.'

'I know.'

'I've been cheating at chess for years.'

'I know, Sally.'

'You do?' She was fleetingly side-tracked. 'Then you might have had the decency to let me win from time to time.'

'I thought you should learn that cheats never prosper,' Spock said, a smugly virtuous expression on his face.

There was a slight pause. Then Sally said,

'You are not my first love, Spock. Not by a long shot.'

'I would infinitely prefer to be your last.'

'Just so we're clear,' Sally said, with a scowl, ' am I going to say anything you don't have an answer for?'

'You have never yet won an argument with me. Do you want to start with this one?'

'Good point. Oh, well, sod it. Less talking. Much more kissing.'

The third kiss was the charm; third time lucky, winner takes all. Past, present and future lit up together in one blinding flash and Sally finally knew she had waited all of her life for the moment when her body melted into Spock's arms with all things unspoken understood between them. Here, in the person of the man who had been the silent backbone of her life since their fist meeting was her centre, her peace, and her love.

After a time, a laughing voice spoke in the starlight to say,

'"Licence these roving hands to go, above, between, betwixt, below…"'

'Donne,' Spock said, momentarily distracted.

'Yes, and while we're on this subject, can we please remember only one of us is a Vulcan? Don't start something you can't finish.'

In a voice of commendable steadiness, Spock replied,

'It is my invariable custom to finish what I start.'

'Excellent,' said Sally, with immense satisfaction.

Kirk sent the little hover into a series of swallowtail spins and then skimmed her across the peak of T'Samr in salute. Beneath him he could see Spock packing up the small camp while Sally stood alone, some distance away, gazing across the desert in deep contemplation.

He was a happy man this morning. He did not yet know with any certainty what had happened the preceding night but he had been woken abruptly from a fitful sleep by one single flash of sheer ecstasy, electric in its power. In the past, vague echoes of Sally's many passions had occasionally found their way to him but nothing as powerful or satisfied had ever interrupted his dreams before. The only thing that puzzled him ever so slightly was that the link thereafter had been totally silent; not a word, not a whisper had touched his consciousness until Sally's link voice called him to the rendezvous.

The hover touched down and Kirk jumped out, calling cheerfully,

'You ordered a taxi, I believe?'

He took a couple of steps towards them, grinning in anticipation. Then he stopped in mid-stride, assailed with an awful sense of wrongness, his words drying up in his throat.

They stood apart from each other, not in itself unusual since they had never made any public display of whatever affection lay between them. But the aura of companionship, of togetherness, that Kirk, almost unconsciously, had become so used to seeing had quite vanished. They might have been complete strangers to each other. Spock's face wore that inhuman Vulcan mask which Kirk has seen but rarely since the earliest days of their service together and only now, looking at Spock as he once had been, did Kirk realise just how much he had asked of the Vulcan, and how much had been given.

Sally moved slightly and Kirk transferred his stunned gaze to her. She was smiling but the smile did not reach her eyes and she was paler than he had ever seen her.

He thought, with appalling clarity,

'This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.'

'Morning, Jim,' Sally said, walking past him to the hover without looking at him.

'Sally, what's happened?' he whispered, in an urgent undertone.

'Not a thing,' she replied lightly, but her eyes would still not meet his.

Kirk turned back to Spock and saw that nothing he could say would break through the mask.

'Come on then,' he said at last. 'Amanda has breakfast waiting.'

Breakfast was a horrific meal.

Spock maintained a stony silence. Sally, on the other hand, chattered non stop and said nothing with such brittle gaiety that Kirk wanted to strangle her.

After half an hour during which no-one ate anything, Spock excused himself and vanished into the house. Five minutes later, Sally went off to the Meditation Centre. Kirk, McCoy and Amanda were left sitting at the table, staring miserably at each other over the untouched ruins of what Amanda had planned so carefully as a celebration meal.

'Maybe we were wrong,' Kirk said reluctantly, after a long silence.

'No,' said Amanda at once, with a determined shake of her head. 'We weren't wrong. But there's obviously something we didn't take into account. And I have no idea what it is.' She shook her head slightly, and smiled. 'Leave it. They'll sort it out.'

'I'll drink to that,' McCoy said, picking up his coffee cup.

TO BE CONCLUDED

T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER TEN – VULCAN (CONCLUDED)

Kirk and Spock were playing chess that afternoon when Amanda came out of the house on to the terrace where they were sitting. She looked slightly agitated, and Kirk asked,

'Has something happened?'

'It most certainly has,' Amanda responded decisively. 'Where's Sally?'

She held a card in her hand which seemed to be the cause of her barely suppressed excitement. Spock glanced at it and raised both eyebrows at once.

'Sally has taken 'Dr Zhivago' into the garden, I believe. Is that…?'

'Yes, indeed. All four of you. But here, look for yourself.' She laid the card down on the table and made her way swiftly down the path to where a bright red head could just be seen, bent in absorption over her book. Kirk eyed the card but was none the wiser; it was inscribed in Vulcan. He said patiently,

'Is someone going to tell me what all the excitement is about?'

Spock brought his gaze back from its grave contemplation of Sally's distant figure and said,

'My apologies, Jim. We have been invited to dine with the High Council of Vulcan. As you may have gathered from my mother's attitude, this is an unprecedented honour. The High Council has kept itself mainly apart from outworlders, although you have met one of its members before.'

'T'Pau?' Kirk asked nervously. Spock nodded.

'Er…' Kirk cleared his throat. 'Won't that be just a little awkward, Spock? We did fake my death for her benefit, after all.'

'The fact that you are still alive does not seem to have escaped her attention,' Spock said dryly. 'Your name is clearly written on the invitation. Besides, Vulcans do not bear grudges. It would not be logical.'

Maybe not, Kirk thought, but I bet they don't forget, either.

He decided to change the subject. A discussion of that episode, here on Vulcan, brought the memories too close.

'Your move, Spock,' he said.

Amanda looked down at Sally's relaxed figure and was once again devoutly grateful for the high walls which shielded the garden's privacy. It was true that on Vulcan she was probably safer than she would have been on any other planet, but Sally had a body that might easily arouse a saint and, clad as it presently was in the briefest pair of shorts Amanda had ever been privileged to set eyes on together with a top that was even briefer, most of it was on display. She wished she could think of something to say to induce Sally to confide in her. Her own courtship of Sarek had not been without its problems and she knew how major the smallest obstacle might seem in the face of hundreds of years of incomprehensible Vulcan tradition.

'Hi, Amanda,' Sally said, closing her book and rolling over on to her side. 'What's up?'

'My dear, you've been given a signal honour. The Vulcan High Council has invited you, Jim, Spock and Dr McCoy to dine with them tomorrow evening.'

'Oh my God,' Sally shrieked, bolting upright, 'I haven't a thing to wear!'

'I expect we'll find you something,' Amanda replied, unable to resist a smile. 'But listen to me, Sally, this is serious.'

'Serious enough for the repeat of the 'you must conduct yourself with the propriety expected of a Starfleet officer and non-Vulcan woman' speech which you made the first time I was here?'

'You mean the one you completely ignored?'

'That would be the one, yes,' Sally grinned cheerfully at her. 'I promise I'll behave, will that do? Oh, wait a minute…' Her expression changed. 'Oh shit. Amanda, have I been invited to this thing so they can look me over?'

'I wouldn't say that, exactly,' Amanda said cautiously. 'Anyway, would it matter?'

'Matter? You're damn right it would. If you think I'm going to sit there quietly while the high and mighty Vulcan council decides if I'm a suitable mate for Spock…'

'Even if that were so,' Amanda interrupted, seizing her opportunity, ' and I don't say it is, do you think for one second that Spock would allow it? You may not be in love with him, but I thought you trusted him.'

There was a long silence. Amanda held her breath. Then Sally said, in a very subdued voice,

'I do trust him. And I do love him. Too much to do anything to hurt him.' She stood up very suddenly and added brightly, ' And now, I have to look through my wardrobe, though I'm sure absolutely nothing I brought with me will be equal to the strain. Can you recommend a good dressmaker?'

She walked away quickly without waiting for a reply. Amanda followed more slowly, knowing she had just been given a vital clue but unable for the life of her to work out what it was.

Sally stopped on the terrace and scrutinised the chess board.

'Winning again, Cap'n Jim? How do you do it?'

'Skill,' Kirk responded briefly, making his final move. 'Checkmate, I think, Spock.' He pushed his chair back from the table and looked up at Sally, taking in her costume – or rather, the lack of it. A slow grin of appreciation spread across his face.

'I sincerely hope you'll be wearing something slightly more decent tomorrow – though, mind you, it's hard to see how it could be improved on.'

'You're a dirty old man, Kirk,' Sally said cheerfully as Amanda came quietly up behind her.

'Less of the 'old', thanks.' Kirk gestured at the chess board and asked, with real nobility in view of Sally's still publicly assumed standard of play, 'Do you want a game?'

'No, a shower has more appeal at the moment,' Sally replied, chuckling at his expression of relief. 'By the way, any ideas about what I _should _wear tomorrow?'

'I'd say I'd trust to your own good taste, but unfortunately you don't have any. So…'

'Go on,' Sally encouraged him, sitting down and helping herself to his glass of iced fruit water. 'Dressing modestly is way outwith my experience and I need all the help I can get.'

'I don't know much about clothes, I spend my life in uniforms. But I liked that dress you wore the first night here.'

'Definitely one of my better buys,' Sally agreed, 'though I was kind of hoping for an excuse to buy something new.' She added, without looking in Spock's direction, 'What about you, Spock?'

'I believe I am even less qualified in this subject than the captain.'

'Does that prevent you from having an opinion?'

'I was under the impression,' Spock said, very evenly, 'that my opinion was a matter of indifference to you.'

Several things happened at once. The glass in Sally's hand exploded, showering her with splinters. The table lifted itself off the ground by three or four feet and crashed back down again. And the chess set pieces flew off in all directions, some of them detonating like little bombs, quite spectacularly, as they did so. It had been such a long time since Sally had so completely lost her governance of her power that it took Kirk at least thirty seconds to realise she was responsible.

'Oh, God,' Sally said, stricken, putting her hands up to her face. There was blood on her hands, and on her cheek. 'Amanda, I'm so sorry. Your chess set…'

'The things aren't important. Let me see those cuts,' Amanda commanded, bustling her off the terrace and into the house.

Spock had half-risen but Amanda shook her head at him very decisively. He sat down again and set the chess board upright. Kirk began to pick up the fallen pieces. He held a white pawn in his hand for a moment, rubbing his thumb over the smooth, cool surface of it. It had been a beautiful set, black and white ivory-stone, and a pleasure to play with; a relict of Spock's childhood, Kirk knew. He said,

'Can the broken pieces be replaced?'

'I doubt it,' Spock said calmly. 'No matter. I am more concerned for Sally's injuries.'

'They didn't look like bad cuts to me,' Kirk retorted callously, 'and anyway, it serves her right. You know, I have always believed Sally is the most sensible woman of my acquaintance. I am rapidly changing my mind.'

Spock's response to this gambit was to close his face with such a stony expression that Kirk's nerve almost failed him. He took his courage firmly in both hands and went on,

'Look, Spock, I'm not trying to pry… at least… well, I guess I am, actually. But you and Sally are the best friends I have, and I'd like to help if I can. I thought the two of you were… Oh, hell, were we wrong? Amanda, McCoy and myself? Were we wrong, Spock?'

There was a long moment of quiet, during which Kirk thought Spock was going to get up from the table and walk away without a word. Then,

'No, Jim. Since I appear to have been so obvious, there seems little point in denying that I had…hopes.'

'You've been far from obvious,' Kirk replied, feeling his way cautiously in case Spock clammed up again and gave his famous impersonation of the proverbial shellmouth. 'It didn't finally dawn on me until a few weeks ago. McCoy knew before all of us – maybe even before you.'

'The good doctor's perception is unique,' Spock agreed and Kirk found himself hoping things would work out just so he could repeat that statement to McCoy. It had to be the biggest compliment the Vulcan had ever paid him.

'Then if none of us have been indulging in wishful thinking or fantasies, what went wrong?' Kirk demanded.

'Jim… I do appreciate your concern but there is nothing you can do. Sally considers her reasons sufficient, and she may – indeed, I hope she will – tell you herself, in time. Your persuasions may succeed where mine have failed.' He stood up and added politely, 'I believe you must now find it uncomfortably warm out here. Shall we go in?'

Sally disappeared for the rest of the day, and returned to the house laden with several bags. She arrived late at the dinner table, apologised to Amanda and said nothing throughout the meal, returning to her room as soon as it was finished. Amanda excused herself saying she was expecting a call from Sarek, who was due back from his mission with Eowyn very shortly. Left to themselves, conversation between Kirk, Spock and McCoy began to pall and Kirk had the feeling Spock was regretting his brief moment of openness that afternoon. McCoy eventually settled down with a book, yawned ostentatiously a couple of times and declared his intention of seeking his couch for the night.

Kirk grinned wryly at Spock as McCoy meandered up the stairs.

'I think McCoy has just been tactful.'

'My impression also, Jim. Despite his perpetual doom-mongering, I suspect the doctor is really an optimist at heart.'

'Well, since I don't intend to try and force confidences from you, shall we have another game?' Kirk suggested, and could promptly have kicked himself from one end of the house to the other. 'Sorry, Spock. I forgot.'

'It was only a chess set, Jim. If you would not object to a mere two-dimensional game, I believe I have a small pocket set somewhere.'

'Really? It's been years since I tried my hand at that. I'll give it a try.'

Spock went upstairs. Kirk wandered about the room, picking up a book and putting it down again. He felt uneasy, edgy, tense; he was not used to being in a situation he could not resolve. He decided a good night's sleep was all he really wanted right now and went up the stairs after Spock to tell him to forget the chess game.

'Spock,' he said, pushing open the bedroom door, 'I've changed my…'

Spock turned to face him, moving away from the desk by the window where he had been standing. The light was off but the brilliant light of T'Khut falling through the window reflected on something with a myriad of dancing lights.

'You said it was just a pocket set,' Kirk said slowly.

'I did, Jim. I found…this.'

The pedestal was of black and clear glass. The pieces themselves were of crystal and black goldstone, carefully and delicately carved into the figures of what they traditionally represented. Kings crowned in golden circlets, queens regal in flowing robes, knights on prancing ponies, castles spun into fantasy shapes of turrets and battlements, and the pawns garbed as soldiers, helmeted and speared.

'So that's what she went shopping for,' Kirk said. 'That's a fairly impressive apology, Spock.'

He looked up to find Spock watching him, almost with a question in his eyes.

'Jim… do you understand women?'

'Women, yes,' Kirk said, without hesitation. 'However, if we are talking about Sally then the answer is no. Not at any time. Not at all. Never.' He scooped up one of the figurines and watched the starlight reflect through it on to his hand. Beautiful. He put it down again very carefully and added, 'Still…I honestly don't think I need to advise you to give up hope.'

Kirk ambled slowly down the corridor, thinking hopefully of bed and sleep and possibly a small brandy to take the edge off the dead weight of unhappiness which seemed to have settled in the pit of his stomach.

'Make that a large brandy,' he muttered to himself, walking into his bedroom and making straight for the cabinet where Amanda had thoughtfully secreted a bottle of quite excellent vintage.

'It's poured already,' said a voice from behind him, 'and I think you should know that talking to yourself and drinking alone are both signs of a disturbed mind.'

'Quite right,' Kirk agreed, 'and you have disturbed it. What have you got to say for yourself?'

Sally walked out of the shadows of the room towards him. With her hair falling loose around her shoulders she looked, in that kind half-light, very much younger, almost the child she had been when Kirk first met her. Her brocade robe rustled as she handed him his drink. How many memories were woven into the golden fabric? Her first night on board the 'Enterprise', held in Kirk's arms against her fear and her loss. The rescue and death of Taishun. The night Kirk had heard both the legend of the T'Aramu and the secret Spock and Sally had kept between them. The argument with Spock during which McCoy had voiced his prognosis to a disbelieving Kirk. And it had been McCoy, practical and unimaginative McCoy, who had insisted she be dressed in her own robe when Kirk and Spock brought her home from Kerad's ship, so that her second awakening was still another moment caught and held forever in the amber of that cloth.

Kirk went to her without a word and folded her into a soundless embrace. This Sally of his could be flamboyant, elegant, hoydenish, sensual, maddening or practical, and she was always beautiful whatever she wore. But that golden robe embodied Sally for him. In it, he always found the woman who was his sister, his daughter, his friend.

'You want to talk about it?' he asked.

'Hell, Cap'n Jim, you don't think I snuck in here just to snitch your brandy, do you?' said Sally, and promptly burst into tears.

Kirk sat on the bed and watched her helplessly for a few moments. He had seen her through almost all of the emotional crises of her life but he had never seen her control break so completely and the spectacle stunned him.

'For God's sake,' he said eventually, 'you're unhappy and Spock's unhappy. I just can't imagine any problem so insurmountable that the two of you can't get past it when it's so bloody obvious you're made for each other.'

'Stop shouting,' Sally said, still snivelling but perking up somewhat at the scent of battle.

'I _feel _like shouting,' Kirk informed her truthfully. 'Are you going to dare to sit there and tell me you're not in love with Spock? Because if you do, I give you fair warning I'll box your ears from here to next week.'

'I'd damn well like to see you try it, Kirk.'

'Sally, it's late. I am tired, worried and depressed and you are the sole cause of all of these conditions. I would like to think that someday I can look back at this singularly hellish day and say it was worth it. Would you please tell me, once and for all, when I can have the pleasure and infinite relief of giving you away?'

'Well, I have no doubt you'd be very glad to get rid of me, but it's not going to happen,' Sally said pettishly.

'He won't marry you? Is that what this is about?'

'On the contrary,' Sally said, and looked as if she were about to burst into tears again. Kirk, with great presence of mind, picked up the glass of brandy and thrust it into her hands.

'Thanks,' she said, but she didn't drink it, just sat turning the glass round and round. Kirk sat beside her on the bed and waited.

'I suppose you must think I'm really stupid,' she said eventually. 'I remember that grand speech I gave you, about how there would only ever be Taishun because I could never really love anyone but another telepath. Feel free to laugh at this point. I swear I never thought, never dreamed… Spock was my friend, my dearest friend. Even though, in the dark place, it was him I missed, I was so blinded by that silly preconception – and when I knew, I thought… well, Spock has always been good at hiding his feelings. Too good. I've never been rejected, Jim, I've never not been able to get anyone I ever wanted. I didn't know what to do. And when I found out he did want me, it was like the gates of heaven opened. But we can't be together.'

'Why the blue bloody blazes not?' Kirk yelled, completely losing his temper.

'Isn't it obvious?' Sally shouted back.

'Not to me!'

'Look at me,' Sally commanded savagely. 'Do you know how many lovers I've had?'

'No,' said Kirk, who had given up trying to keep count a long time ago, 'but I've no doubt Spock does, and if it doesn't matter to him, why should it matter to you?'

'Oh, don't be obtuse, Kirk.'

Some vague inkling of what the problem actually was began to take shape in Kirk's brain. So fundamental, so appallingly simple, he had not given it a second's thought.

'Sally, is this about sex? Does that need to be such a problem? Spock is half-human, after all. And haven't you already… I mean… surely you… oh, dammit. Didn't you?'

'Coyness does not suit a man of your years and experience,' Sally observed. 'You know we did. That's not it. Jim, I am one of the most notorious women in Star Fleet. I've never kept my affairs secret and I have ex-lovers scattered on starships and planets from here to the galaxy's edge. I'm not ashamed of my past life, and I know it doesn't worry Spock. But can you imagine, can you begin to envisage, what people would say if I married a _Vulcan? _ The innuendoes, the jokes, the sly remarks, the looks Spock would have to put up with? We are neither of us exactly unknown. We'd spend the rest of our lives in a glare of publicity and speculation that would hurt him. And the Vulcans will never accept me. Spock is still the half-Vulcan and to marry me, in the teeth of all tradition and expectation, would be the final wedge between him and his people. And I can't do that.'

Kirk stared at her in silence for a few moments. Sally waited for words of comfort, until it dawned on her that the silence was not exactly sympathetic.

'Don't you agree with me?' she asked, uncertainly.

'I've never heard such a load of crap in my life,' Kirk said. The tone was uncompromising and the gaze was flinty; Sally was left in no doubt he meant exactly what he said.

'Jim, I thought you'd understand.'

'Did you? Well, I suppose the fact I haven't put you over my knee could be attributed to the fact I do understand, though I wouldn't count on it. Live in a glare of publicity and speculation, indeed. You stupid woman, what else has Spock done all his life? He's been a target from the day he was born. The half-breed. The walking computer. The green-blooded alien.' Sally flinched visibly at each stinging insult. 'And to 'his people' he is Amanda's son, and he's never been allowed to forget it.'

'I know all this,' Sally pointed out.

'Do you? And do you begin to understand what it has meant to him? I don't think so, Sally.'

'If I don't,' Sally said, very quietly, 'who else can honestly claim to do so?'

'All the more reason for you not to put a sanctimonious expression on your face and spout self-sacrificing rubbish at me,' Kirk said tartly. 'Spock's place isn't here. It's with us. That's where he has chosen to be. And he has chosen you, out of all the women he could have had – and there have been a lot of them, Sally, who would be very happy to be standing in your shoes right now. And you sit there, making pious claims about friendship when you can't even get past a couple of minor problems.'

'How can you say that?' Sally demanded.

'How can I not say it? And I'll tell you something else…' Kirk hauled Sally to her feet and hauled her, protesting, over to the mirror. 'That,' he said, grasping her chin and tilting her face towards her reflection, 'is the face of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. It's also the face of a woman who's going to spend the rest of her life alone. Can you go back, Sally? Do you want to? Sleeping in a different man's bed every night, knowing how you feel about Spock? Can you do that?'

'Stop it!' Sally shouted. The mirror fell off the wall and shattered. Sally tore herself out of his grip and hurtled to the other side of the room. 'I don't want to hear any more.'

'No, I'll just bet you don't,' Kirk replied, advancing towards her.

'Come one step nearer and I swear…'

'Hey,' said a sleepy voice from the doorway. 'You two wanna tone it down a little? And if you intend to murder each other, can you at least do it out of earshot?'

Kirk turned to see McCoy, tousled and heavy-eyed, with an expression of anxiety on his face quite at variance with the lightness of his tone. Peering over his shoulder, looking scared, was Amanda.

'Oh, shit, did we wake you up?' said Sally, appalled.

'Of course not,' McCoy said, heavily sarcastic. 'I always go for a stroll at midnight. And I expect Amanda does too.'

'Invariably,' Amanda agreed gamely, but her voice shook.

McCoy glanced from Kirk's grim face to Sally's taut and furious figure.

'Anybody want to tell an old country doctor what the discussion was about?'

'It wasn't a discussion,' Sally muttered.

'But it's over,' Kirk added, holding out a hand to her. 'Isn't it?'

'I surely hope so,' she said with a sidelong look, allowing him to put an arm round shoulders still stiff with resentment.

'Good,' McCoy said, still watchful. 'Maybe we can all get some sleep now. Where's Spock, by the way? I'm surprised those supersensitive ears of his didn't catch every word.'

'They did, doctor,' Spock's voice said from the hallway.

'Oh, _bloody _hell,' Sally exclaimed, diving past Kirk on to the balcony. Her bare feet could be heard receding rapidly and then her bedroom doors were jerked shut with unnatural emphasis.

Kirk sauntered into the hallway, shouldering past McCoy, and grinned ruefully at Spock.

'I'm glad you heard that,' he said. 'I'm too tired for explanations. Mr Spock, I am going to bed and, I hope, to sleep. Before I retire from the fray, I'll give you a piece of advice. You may take it or not, as you please.'

There was silence. Kirk, looking at his friend's face, was visited by a momentary but strong desire to beat Sally senseless. What had she said to him, so long ago? "There's Spock. Before, during and probably after Sally. There will always be Spock.'

McCoy and Amanda stepped back quietly into the shadows. Spock's eyes remained fixed on Kirk's face, waiting.

'Don't stand any more of her bloody nonsense,' Kirk said tersely, and walked into his room and slammed the door.

Kirk, unsurprisingly, slept badly for what remained of the night and woke not much refreshed.

Had he done the right thing by tackling Sally so vehemently? Spock was entirely capable of managing his own life, and was a master of logical argument into the bargain. And Sally would surely have realised that Spock would have considered all the points she had made prior to making his declaration. If Sally still remained convinced that she would hurt him more by accepting him than refusing him, then what could Kirk say that would sway her?

Kirk took a shower and cursed heaven he had been afflicted with two friends so stubborn and opinionated. The irresistible force had met the immovable object with a vengeance and Kirk was not sure that the collision wouldn't yet prove to be disastrous for one, if not both of them.

He stubbed his toe getting out of the shower and hopped about angrily on one foot. Sally came through on the link at that moment and he swore heartily at her.

-It's not my fault you're clumsy- she said to the unspoken accusation. –If you were so busy thinking about my problems that you didn't watch where you were going, then you should mind your own damn business-

-Tell me what you want and get out of my brain, please-

-Sorry about last night. You were right, I think-

-Sally, hang on a minute-

-Hailing frequencies now closed-

Kirk hastily threw on a pair of pants and went down to her room. She was gone.

None of them saw Sally that day. Amanda, when questioned, said she was being fitted for her dress.

Kirk, Spock and McCoy, in full dress uniform, met up in Amanda's lounge five minutes before a hover was due to pick them up and transport them to the Council Chambers. Kirk and McCoy were indulging in a pre-dinner brandy. Spock, of course, was not, nor did he look as if he needed one.

'Sally's going to be late,' Amanda said. 'Will I go up and get her?'

'She won't be late,' McCoy said confidently. 'Our Sally likes to leave enough time to make her entrance and receive her due portion of adulation.'

'Bones, you're a cynic,' Kirk said, not for the first time.

However, it seemed this time McCoy was wrong. The door had chimed twice to signal the hover's arrival before she came running down the stairs, apologising without much conviction. She wore a long black cloak, its hood pulled up over her hair, and her make-up, at least was restrained and elegant. Kirk, concerned they were going to be late, ushered her into the transport without first inspecting her, which had probably been her intention.

'Okay,' he said, when they were all seated, 'let's go get this over with.'

'Jim, this is an honour,' Spock said, very dryly.

'Right, it's an honour. T'Pau still scares the hell out of me.'

They were escorted directly to the main council chamber. It was, like all public rooms on Vulcan, large, sparsely furnished and very cool. The floor and three walls were of dully gleaming black stone, flecked with silver sparkles. The fourth wall had been left open to the air and commanded a magnificent view of the city and the red desert sands beyond. The lighting, though entirely modern, flickered like torchlight, lending golden glows to the shadows and the superb sculptures which lined the walls.

Facing the 'Enterprise' party were the twelve members of Vulcan's ruling council. Without exception, they were clad in sombre hues of black, grey and silver, and Kirk instantly felt the blues and golds of their dress uniforms were indecently colourful. There were six men and six women present, but T'Pau was immediately recognisable as the leader. Kirk had never forgotten her confident aura of power and dignity and the grace she still possessed, despite the stick she used to assist her movement.

'Spock,' T'Pau said, making the Vulcan sign which Spock, standing sword straight, returned. 'It is too long since thy last set foot on thy father's planet.'

'I hope my next visit will not be too far distant.'

'And I may still hope that one day thee might stay.' T'Pau turned her laser-like scrutiny on Kirk and McCoy, who had been practicing the Vulcan sign behind their backs and now produced it for her inspection. 'Captain Kirk and Dr McCoy. I see thee are both… in good health. I trust thy previous visit left no lasting ill-effects?'

McCoy cleared his throat.

'I was unwell for a short time,' Kirk said frankly, knowing she must be aware of the full depth of their deception and wondering just how she had taken it. 'Fortunately, thanks to Dr McCoy's skill, I made a swift recovery. I am glad to have been given the opportunity to see more of Vulcan's beauty this time round.'

'Yes,' T'Pau agreed. 'Thy last visit was a little eventful, was it not?'

'You could say that,' Kirk replied dryly.

T'Pau nodded, her eyes not on him but on Sally, who stood quietly and decorously behind her captain. Kirk silently grasped McCoy's arm and pulled him to one side, leaving T'Pau and Sally facing once another. Sally raised her hand in a perfect Vulcan salute and spoke briefly in flawless Vulcan; Kirk had no idea she could speak it.

'T'Aramu, we greet thee,' T'Pau said, giving her the Vulcan/Romulan name. The atmosphere in the room took a sudden and dramatic turn. Kirk had the sense of an indrawn breath being silently held, of a measured judgement calmly taking place.

'It is said thee has great powers, T'Aramu. Is it true?'

'It is true.'

'It is also said that thou art beautiful. May we not judge this for ourselves?'

Sally raised her hands to her hood and slipped it carefully down. Her hair was dressed neatly in a perfect chignon, with sparkling pins set into it. She stood straight, grave, relaxed, and Kirk was proud of her. He was also, for the first time, profoundly grateful for being so very lovely. In that, at least, no Vulcan could begin to fault her.

T'Pau nodded abruptly.

'Yes,' she said. 'Thou art beautiful.' There was a moment's pause. She gestured for an aide to take Sally's cloak and said to Kirk, 'If I may introduce the rest of the council…'

Sally undid the clasp of her cape and the aide swept it from her shoulders.

'Oh, _crap,_' Kirk and McCoy said simultaneously.

Because the T'Aramu emerged from that drab and demure wrapping. She was tightly glad in gold cloth, which barely covered her breasts and left both midriff and back bare. It was long, but so snugly fitted that Kirk wondered how she could breathe, let alone move; and it was absolutely covered in thousands of little multi-coloured crystals. She flashed and flared and glittered defiantly in the light; she looked as exotic and out of place in that gathering as a bird of paradise among crows.

A Vulcan would have been able to hear a feather fall in the silence that followed. Kirk was trying to decide whether it would be better to drag Sally bodily from the room or merely murder her when he caught Spock's eye, and what he saw there made all conscious thought stop dead.

Spock had known that Sally would do this. Known it, counted on it, planned for it.

T'Pau's gaze swept dismissively over Sally and came to rest on Spock.

Battle had been joined, and T'Pau was ready with her first salvo.

'Thee has called thyself Vulcan, Spock. Thee has chosen to follow the Vulcan way. Is T'Aramu the wife who will help thee on that path?'

'Which is a completely academic question, since I don't intend to marry him – just so we're all clear on that point,' Sally remarked to the room as a whole, with a wide and friendly smile.

Spock said nothing. But he removed the IDIC pendant he wore around his neck and held it in the palm of his hand. He looked at Sally. She smiled.

'Yes,' she said. 'Of course.' She snapped her fingers, the pendant floated across to her, and she hung it around her own neck – where it looked, it had to be said, highly incongruous.

'She wears the IDIC,' Spock said to T'Pau. 'The finest product of our society has been that philosophy. Do we abide by it?'

'Of course we do,' T'Pau replied. 'IDIC is basic to our way.'

'So basic, in fact,' Spock said evenly, 'that I, the first half-Vulcan, have met with prejudice even within the walls of this chamber. So basic that my mother, who has willingly adapted herself to our society, is still regarded as an outworlder by many. So basic that my choice of wife is judged, not by the worth of her character but by the mere fact of her humanity.'

'Resentment is a human emotion, Spock.'

'I resent nothing. I simply query the logic which makes judgements on such a basis. The humans had a word for it, in their past. They called it racism.'

'She is no fit wife for thee,' T'Pau said flatly.

'Make no mistake, T'Pau,' Spock said, and his voice was very cold, 'I neither ask nor require your permission. What I do ask is that you explain the logic that has led you to make that decision.'

Vulcans are not given to gasps of astonishment, but the whole room came pretty close to it and Kirk thought he had never seen an expression so un-nerving as that which appeared on T'Pau's face after Spock's question.

'You have said that she will not help me on my path, T'Pau. But what path is that? In the life that I have chosen, she would be a fit and suitable companion. As for my Vulcan blood – of all the humans I have ever met, she is the only one who has never sought to change me, never sought to force from me that which I could not give, never once complained that I do not behave as a human should. She is the only human who has never sought to turn me from that Vulcan path you so desire. And in return, all that she has ever asked is that she remain as she is – a human. Together I believe we will become greater than the sum of us both. We will be living examples of IDIC.'

'I cannot permit this,' T'Pau said.

'Well, excuse me, ma'am,' McCoy said, his Southern drawl and charm both blatantly apparent, before Spock, Kirk or Sally could say the words so clearly hovering on their various tongues, 'but shouldn't this get put to a vote? I've always been led to believe that Vulcan is a democracy. Please do correct me if I'm wrong,' he added politely.

There was a quite appalling little silence.

Then T'Pau unclosed the thin white line which was her mouth and uttered two short Vulcan words. Instantly the room was filled with the low-pitched, guttural sounds of Vulcans debating. Spock sat down, steepled his hands in front of his face and appeared to withdraw to some inner realm of contemplation. Kirk, though making rapid strides in his understanding of the language, was not yet proficient enough to follow the discussion taking place around him. Sally was, apparently; but when Kirk looked at her she did not even appear to be listening. Her whole attention was on Spock.

Kirk sidled over to McCoy. No-one paid any attention to him. He said,

'Bones, are you _enjoying_ this?'

'Sure as hell am, Jim. Why, aren't you?'

'No, and I'm wondering what it is you know that I don't…'

'Psychology, Jim,' McCoy said, with a chuckle. 'Psychology.' He glanced at Kirk's face and added, with no hint of laughter in his voice, 'Stop worrying. No-one has ever stood up against Sally's charisma for long.'

'T'Pau is,' Kirk pointed out.

'Wait,' McCoy advised, and strolled off to watch the sunset.

The low drone of voices was suddenly hushed. The council members all turned to face T'Pau and one man spoke, briefly. T'Pau bowed her head.

'What did he say, Spock?' Kirk demanded, beside himself with impatience. 'Sally? What did he say?'

Sally's knees seemed to buckle beneath her and she sat down suddenly and heavily on the stone steps leading down into the chamber. T'Pau raised her head and looked across the room at her.

'The council have decreed this choice can be made only by the parties concerned. They have decreed we shall not interfere. Thine is then the last word. How says the T'Aramu?'

'Jim?' Sally whispered. 'What should I do?'

Kirk thought for a moment, trying to find the right words to carry her over the final, most difficult hurdle.

'Sally,' he said at last, aware of McCoy moving to his side and silently willing him on, 'you know that I love you. And I tell you this - Spock is the only man in the universe to whom I would let you go.'

Sally drew a very deep breath and stood up.

And Kirk was visited by a hallucination so vivid that there were times in his final years when he almost believed it had actually happened.

The Vulcan sun was setting, flushing the sky and igniting her hair. The crystals on her dress flashed rainbows around the room. Sally took a step, and seemed to float across the room.

Kirk heard wings. The air was filled with the rushing, beating sound.

And he saw them.

Great, glorious, golden wings springing from her shoulders in a sublime and glittering arc, gleaming with wild-fire where the last rays of the sun caught their tips. As he watched, almost convinced it was real, the airy plumage began to ruffle and settle, folding in upon themselves with a gentle, hypnotic rhythm, folding over and over until they had quite vanished.

Spock, for the first time since the beginning of the discussion, raised his eyes from the steadfast inspection of his locked hands and looked at her. She smiled. Her hand sketched a movement in the air and Kirk saw it with a thrill of recognition; the classic chess player's movement, the tipping over of the king. Checkmate. Defeat. Surrender.

'Your game,' Sally said to Spock. 'All the way, your game. And I may even arrange a grand master's citation.'

'It would be deserved,' Spock replied and the tone, if not the face, told Kirk how great had been the fear that this, of all games, would be lost.

'Spock, said Sally Kilsyth, laughing, holding out her hand to him, 'would you please marry me?'

'I will,' said Spock, and took her hand.

The T'Aramu had come down from the skies at last.

After Kirk and McCoy, incoherent with jubilation, had finally finished pounding each other on the back and generally giving the Vulcan Council the most amazing display of human irrationality it had ever been privileged to behold, things calmed down just a little. T'Pau gave orders for the best vintage to be brought to the table – non-alcoholic, of course, but nobody cared; Kirk and McCoy were both as high as kites anyway. Once the short ceremony, conducted on all sides in faultless Vulcan, was over the council solemnly toasted the health of the newly married couple and Kirk and McCoy embraced the bride with enthusiasm. T'Pau, with the air of one succumbing to events with the greatest possible reluctance, commanded Sally to kiss her, which Sally did with caution. Spock accepted the congratulations of his captain and McCoy with grave composure and unbent sufficiently to allow them to shake his hand.

'Where's Sally gone off to?' Kirk asked, having seen both Sally and T'Pau disappear through a door at the end of the room some minutes before.

'My wife,' said Spock, affecting to be unaware of Kirk's broad grin at the traditional words and the ill-concealed pride with which they were uttered, 'has retired for the moment with T'Pau.'

'Well if there's going to be a fight, my money's on Sally,' McCoy said, coming up to them in time to hear this last remark. 'If logic fails, she'll use her fists.'

'There will be absolutely no necessity for anything of the sort, doctor,' Spock responded frostily. 'T'Pau is behaving in the proper Vulcan fashion. As the most senior woman present, it is her duty to advise Sally on the responsibilities of the married state.'

'Oh,' McCoy said, enlightened. 'The Vulcan birds and bees, huh?'

'Not precisely. There are other factors involved.'

'Just as well,' McCoy said irrepressibly. 'How much d'ya think she could tell _Sally_?'

'Bones,' Kirk said quietly, unsure how this reference to Sally's somewhat chequered career would be taken – now.

Spock regarded them both patiently.

'Jealousy is quite beyond my capabilities, gentlemen. How Sally chose to conduct her past life is no concern of mine.'

'What about the future?' McCoy asked, avoiding the subtle kick Kirk aimed in his direction.

Kirk could have sworn there was a gleam of humour in those dark eyes as Spock replied,

'Do humans not have a saying – "Why go out for a hamburger when you have steak at home"?'

'Why you smug, conceited, arrogant, pointy-eared hobgoblin…!'

'Hey! No fighting on my wedding day.'

There was a rustle of movement and a smooth hand slipped into Kirk's. He turned his head, and she smiled at him. And he saw the difference then. Serenity had come to her, glimmered in her eyes, had stilled the restless spirit into peace. For Sally, the long search was over and she had come to her safe harbour, finding her refuge and her sanctuary in Spock.

T'Pau, who had brought Sally back to them, stood watching her for some moments. The icy chill had vanished from her face and in it's place had come a surprising warmth, and even a measure of approval.

'I will watch thy future with curiosity, T'Aramu. I have no doubt it will be… interesting.' She bowed courteously to Spock, Kirk and McCoy and moved off.

'Told ya,' McCoy said triumphantly to Kirk. 'By the way, your credit's good with me, Jim.'

'What?' said Kirk.

'We had a bet on this, did we not?' McCoy asked, with a Cheshire cat grin. 'Which I believe I have just very conclusively won!'

It was late by the time they got back to the Sareks' home, but lights were still burning on the lower level.

'Amanda, awaiting developments,' McCoy whispered to Kirk.

They went in.

Sarek rose from his chair to greet them. Behind him was Amanda – and Eowyn.

'Wyn!' Sally shrieked, darting forward with a sparkle of skirts to kiss her and then embracing Sarek with enthusiasm, a performance he endured with resignation. 'Wyn, how lovely. I do wish I'd known you were here earlier.'

'Why?' Eowyn asked, with one of the delicious chuckles Kirk remembered so well. He bowed a formal greeting to Sarek and turned to collect his share of embraces from Eowyn. She restrained herself to a chaste peck on the lips, but her naughty expression promised further pleasures once they were alone.

'Witch,' he said quietly. She was looking quite enchanting, with her hair tumbled out of its ambassadorial knot and her figure generously displayed in a simple cream dress.

'Jim,' she replied, with satisfaction. 'You look good.' Her gaze travelled to Sally, who was perched on the arm of the couch beside Amanda and smiling faintly, and to McCoy, who was positively smirking. 'In fact… you're _all_ looking remarkably self-satisfied. What have you been up to?'

'Not much, really,' Sally said, glancing up at Spock. 'How are you, Sarek?'

'I am well, Sally, as you see. I trust you have found your stay here interesting so far?'

'Hmmm, there have been some moments,' Sally conceded. She slid off the arm of the couch and knelt carelessly on the floor, her sparkling skirts spread out around her. She began to unpin her carefully arranged hair which had, unusually, withstood the evening's events.

'Sarek,' she said, 'are you calm? Are you in a reasonably even-tempered mood? Are you, in fact, feeling logical?'

'One does not 'feel' logical, I believe,' Sarek pointed out. His austere expression, beside which Spock's seemed almost human in comparison, softened a little as he looked at Sally.

'What have you done, Sally?' Sarek asked, with unruffled tranquillity. 'I am prepared for the worst. Should I sit down?'

'Good idea,' Kirk heard McCoy mutter.

Spock, who had said nothing since entering the room, now bent down and pulled Sally to her feet. She threw him a look so sparkling with affection and mischief that Amanda said sharply, almost shouting,

'For heaven's sake, what's happened?'

'We were married this evening,' Spock announced calmly.

There was a gasp of pure delight from Amanda, instantly quelled. Eowyn opened her mouth to utter congratulations, saw Sarek's face, and decided on silence.

Sarek stood immobile in the centre of the room as if he had grown there, or been carved from a single block of hard Vulcan redstone. It was impossible to tell his reaction from his appearance, though Kirk assumed the news could not be wholly unexpected; even if Amanda had not yet filled him in on recent developments, she must surely have made him privy to her suspicions before now.

'Sarek?' Sally said softly.

Amanda said nothing. In private, she would voice her opinion but in public, Kirk knew, she would submit to Sarek as she had submitted once before, when she had lost her son for eighteen long years as a result.

'Spock,' Sarek said at last.

'My father?'

'Stand before me, if you please. With your…wife.'

They obeyed him. Sarek looked at them both for a long moment, his face quite impassive. Finally, just as the silence threatened to become oppressive, he said,

'Spock, I decided to marry your mother two days after I met her. What took _you_ so long?'

Kirk grabbed McCoy and Eowyn and they just made it to the garden before all three of them lost control and broke up completely.

When they returned to the house, Sarek and Amanda were alone and quite obviously wished to remain so. With rare tact, Kirk did not enquire as to Spock and Sally's whereabouts. There were quiet goodnights all round and Kirk, McCoy and Eowyn went upstairs to bed.

Eowyn followed Kirk into his bedroom.

'Do you think we should?' he asked, a little startled. It then registered with him that his were not the only belongings in the room.

'Amanda's getting a little short of bedrooms,' Eowyn explained innocently. 'I said I didn't think you'd mind sharing. Of course, if you've any objection…'

She broke off with a squeak as Kirk lunged across the room at her.

After that, there was mainly laughter.

'Eowyn? Eowyn, wake up.'

Eowyn rolled over, reaching for him, and encountered empty sheets.

'By the window. By God, you must have a clean conscience, you sleep like the dead.'

'Either that, or I've been very well satisfied tonight,' Eowyn replied smugly. 'Hey…what on earth is all that light?'

'Come and see.'

Eowyn joined him at the window.

'Look,' Kirk commanded.

From the top of T'Samr, lightening flashed. It lit up the desert with its intensity.

'Just a lightening storm, Jim,' Eowyn said, and then, puzzled, 'But there was no storm forecast for tonight.'

'There wouldn't have been. This is courtesy of a certain redhead.'

'She couldn't,' Eowyn said, awed.

'She has,' Kirk replied. Eowyn moved into his arms and he held her there, tightly, as they watched the lightening spread across the sky.

Sally Kilsyth had called down fire from the heavens to bear witness to her love.

If anyone had ever told Kirk, prior to his stay, that he would spend some of the happiest, most emotionally satisfied times of his life on Vulcan, he would have thought them certifiable. But, spending his days and nights with Eowyn, falling more deeply in love with her in every passing moment, it turned out to be true. How much he was influenced by the radiant happiness that was pouring out of Sally it was impossible to say. The 'Enterprise' had been everything to him for all the years he had captained her; wife, mother, mistress, friend and certainly the most demanding woman in his life. He had always known there was a core in him unsatisfied, resentful of the demands his ship had made on him, a yearning for something he believed he could never have. Eowyn filled all of his need.

When the 'Enterprise' moved into a parking orbit around Vulcan four weeks after that momentous night in the council chambers, Sarek and Amanda threw their doors open to her crew and watched the resultant human chaos with tolerant eyes.

Sally, wearing her iridescent dress, flitted from one friend to another and accepted comments and congratulations with typical exuberance. She was glowing like a flame-moth and Spock, restrained as always in public, observed her antics with a covert pride not even he could quite disguise.

The main reaction to the news was one of surprise; few people on board had been as observant as McCoy. Only Siran McKenna, that grave and silent young woman, had shown not the least astonishment. She exchanged one swift and secretive smile with Sally, and Kirk was pretty sure she had known everything there was to know, all along.

Uhura gave one huge and atypical shriek of glee and then retired to a corner with Sulu and the rest of the ship's entertainment committee. She may have been thwarted of the organisation of the wedding but her determined expression, not to mention the dazed and slightly dismayed faces of her colleagues, spoke of amazing celebrations still to come.

Kirk beamed back to the ship to discuss the refit with Scott and cast an eye over his new orders, sent from Doran in a sealed tape. What was contained there brought him back to Vulcan within thirty minutes, in search of Spock and Sally.

The party was in full swing and he could not see Sally's distinctive tangle of flaming hair anywhere among the press of bodies. A tug on his sleeve made him turn. It was Eowyn, lovely as ever in a copper-coloured dress.

'Where's Spock?' he asked her.

'In the garden with Sally, I think. Jim, are you okay? You look like you've had a shock.'

'I have. Could you chase me up a brandy?'

'Sure, I'll snaffle one from McCoy. Jim…'

Kirk kissed her swiftly on the forehead, smiled at her, and made his way through the crowd to the open windows. Eowyn watched him until he vanished into the darkness beyond, and then went in search of McCoy and a brandy bottle.

Kirk made his way slowly down the garden path towards the bench beside the small pool in the centre of the garden where he could just make out the starry glimmer of Sally's dress. She was sitting there with Spock, not touching, of course, but with their heads very close together. It was no part of his intention to spy on them, but something in their attitude warned him not to disturb them at that moment, so he stopped some yards away. He had thought they were quite motionless but Sally must have moved because something on her hand flashed fire in the starlight and she said, very quietly,

'Taishun knew. He knew it would be you.'

'I am glad to think we have his blessing,' Spock replied and looked at Sally with such tenderness that Kirk was momentarily transfixed by a hideous and unexpected stab of sheer jealousy. In all the years they had served together, though all the adventures they had shared, Spock had managed to keep the mask intact and it was Kirk who had to learn to read what was behind it. But for Sally, there would be no mask.

Then Spock looked up and saw him standing there and his eyes lit, quite definitely, with welcome and pleasure.

'Jim. Join us, please.' The tone told Kirk that Spock knew he had witnessed that little scene and, what was more, that Kirk was the only man whose presence he could have discovered without embarrassment.

The sensation of jealousy vanished like the bad dream it had been. Kirk walked down the slight slope towards his friends.

'Look,' Sally commanded gleefully, holding out her hand to him and he saw what it was that had flared and glinted under the stars. She wore a big violet opal instead of a wedding band, its translucent purple surface coruscating with veins of blue and gold and emerald and pink.

'It's lovely, Sally,' he said. He tried to instil enthusiasm into his voice but didn't quite manage it; or perhaps he did and they both just knew him too well.

'Something's happened,' Sally stated. 'What is it?'

He sat down beside her, bumping her over with his hip. She put her arm around him. Her body was warm and infinitely comforting.

'Still yours, Jim,' she murmured. 'Still your Sally.'

'I know,' said Kirk, and reached up to hold the hand resting on his shoulder.

'You have had new orders?' Spock asked.

'I have had new orders,' Kirk agreed. There was a pause.

'And?' Sally prompted.

'They're going to take her away from me, I think. Oh, Doran hasn't said so in so many words, but we are to take our refitted 'Enterprise' back to Earth where ' a proposition concerning my promotion and advancement' will be made to me.'

'You could decline,' Spock suggested.

'I could,' Kirk agreed, 'but we both know I'd just be postponing the inevitable. Hell, we all knew this had to happen sooner or later.'

'But this is sooner,' Sally protested. There were tears in her eyes. 'Cap'n Jim, I can't imagine a life without the 'Enterprise'. I thought it would last forever.'

'Nothing lasts forever,' Kirk said, with a pragmatism equal to McCoy's. 'We're none of us getting any younger,' ('Speak for yourself,' Sally advised, snorting) 'and our mission has already lasted longer than we originally planned.'

'Oh, stop behaving as if you've just had McCoy surgically stiffen your upper lip,' Sally snapped.

'Spock,' Kirk said, unsure whether he wanted to laugh or cry, 'I'm going to kiss your wife.'

'Be my guest, Jim,' Spock said blandly, and Kirk hugged Sally to him, drawing strength from her warmth and her fragrance.

'I still have 'Perihelion', Sally announced, apropos of absolutely nothing at all.

'What?' Kirk and Spock said together.

'I still have 'Perihelion',' Sally repeated patiently. 'She's in dock at Kairon Omega. I've had her refitted.'

'How did you afford that?' Kirk asked.

'Bloody men, can't see further than their own noses. Siran and Nyota had this sussed within two seconds of setting eyes on my wardrobe.'

'What the hell do your clothes have to do with anything?' Kirk wanted to know.

'Dear Jim, how much do you think the dress I got married in cost?'

'I haven't the faintest idea,' Kirk said shortly, and the tone said he didn't much care, either.

'It was 15,000 credits.'

'Considering the paucity of material, I suspect you were grossly over-charged,' Spock observed.

'Kindly banish any intention you may have of being a miserly husband, or we will have the quickest divorce in history. The point, gentlemen, is that it is a designer model, as are most of my clothes. And you're right, I certainly can't afford them on what you pay me.'

'Are you telling us you have money? Where from?' Kirk asked.

'Not only do I have money, I have lots and lots of money. Not all of my family were on Staxis, you know. My grandparents stayed on Earth. They were pretty wealthy anyway. They knew I'd been placed in stasis and they left me everything. Add two hundred years of interest and very clever investment and a few DNA and genetic identity hoops and we get – very rich.'

'Did you know about this?' Kirk demanded of Spock.

'Of course he did,' Sally replied.

'And nobody thought to tell me?'

'I did not think it was very important,' Spock said, and Kirk reflected he was one of the few men alive for whom that statement was probably true.

'Anyway,' said Sally, 'I had 'Perihelion' refitted to take a crew of twelve. Just in case.'

'In case of what?' Kirk wanted to know. 'What have you been planning?'

'_You _were the one who said nothing lasts forever,' she pointed out. 'Anyway, I haven't planned anything. All I'm saying is that I still have 'Perihelion' and she'll need a captain if I ever use her because _I_ will have other fish to fry. Here's Wyn.'

'I found you a brandy,' Eowyn said to Kirk, 'but I'd get a move on if I were you because Bones is looking after it for you. Sally, everyone wants to know where you are.'

'I'm on my way, is what I am,' Sally said, getting up. She linked arms with Eowyn and began to walk towards the house. Kirk and Spock followed.

' "Other fish to fry"?' Kirk quoted ominously. 'Spock, what's she up to now?'

'I do not know,' Spock said, with a sigh, 'but I would put nothing past her.'

Kirk grinned suddenly and slapped his first officer lightly on the back.

'Spock, I think I can safely say you may find married life aggravating, exasperating, maddening, frantic and occasionally bizarre. But I don't think you will ever be bored.'

'I concur with that analysis,' Spock replied, and there was a smile in his voice, if not on his face.

They reached the terrace and Kirk took possession of his lady and walked into the throng with her. Sally waited on the terrace for a moment with Spock.

'Actually,' she said thoughtfully, 'this whole new orders thing is quite timely. I was going to have to resign my commission anyway. You can't go racing round the galaxy with babies in tow.'

'Are you pregnant?' Spock asked, startled.

'According to the medically-qualified godparent, whom I consulted this morning.'

'How?'

'How?' she repeated, with an eyebrow lift of her own. 'I'm sorry, do I not recall that you were present during the 'how' part of the process?'

'I simply meant… conception between species is not normally possible without medical intervention.'

'Well, our combined genetic material is 75% human, after all. McCoy checked and doubled checked, everything is dividing and growing exactly as it should. I can't wait to see what we turn out… Still, a woman does need a career, don't you think?'

'Possibly,' Spock agreed cautiously. Four weeks of marriage had considerably honed his early warning systems.

'I like being married, though.'

'I hope so.'

'In fact, it's a pity everyone we know isn't as happy… Don't you think it's a pity that all of our friends are so determinedly single?...Spock, I have it! Of course! Matchmaking! I'll take up matchmaking full-time. It's more than time they were all paired off.'

'Sally, I absolutely forbid you to do any such thing ,' Spock said instantly, in a tone of strong disapproval.

She laughed, and tilted her head to look at him. Her eyes shone with unholy mischief, her hair tumbled in wild curls around her face and her face was filled with teasing affection. In that one moment, Spock banished forever any hope or desire of turning Sally into a proper Vulcan wife.

The smile widened.

'Spock,' said Sally Kilsyth. 'My love, my life… up yours!'

THE END


End file.
